Stuck in a Locked Classroom
by Vinyaya
Summary: “Okay, Arnoldo, lets do it. I don’t have any particular interest in knowing the boring details of your boring life, but we’re going to be stuck in here for a while, and any conversation is better than no conversation. But I have one rule.” “What?"
1. Stuck in a Locked Classroom

**Stuck in a Locked Classroom.**

**Disclaimer: If it belonged to me, the show would still be on.**

**A/N: A review would be really nice. Please? Come on, it'll bring you luck! Or something!**

"Fine, fine, ok. I'll tell you. I'll OPEN UP. Whaddaya wanna know?" Helga chewed her gum furiously, annoyed that she was letting herself be goaded into talking about herself. Then again, it was Arnold who was asking her to. It was very hard to say no to Arnold, with his mild face, half lidded eyes, and pleasantly low voice. It was especially hard if you were Helga G. Pataki.

"Hey, look," said Arnold, shrugging. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable or anything. I just think you should open up more, and I'd like to get to know you. That's two birds felled with one stone. If it makes you any happier, I'll be glad to talk about myself too. We could take turns at asking each other stuff. Would you like that?"

"Would I." Helga smirked, folded her arms and leaned against the wall. "Okay, Arnoldo, lets do it. I don't have any particular interest in knowing the boring details of your boring life, but we're going to be stuck in here for a while, and any conversation is better than no conversation. But I have one rule."

"What?" asked Arnold.

"That if there's any question I REALLY don't feel like answering, you won't force me to."

"Done."

Helga's heart warmed to the boy sitting next to her. Every day he gave her a new reason to love him, and she already loved him so much, she was afraid she might burst some day. It just kept growing and growing, and you don't expect that to happen with an unrequited crush you've had for like eleven years. But here he was, wanting to get to KNOW her. What fourteen year old boy wanted to get to KNOW anybody? Wasn't it all about who had developed the most over summer? Whose hair was the shiniest? Who wore the trendiest clothes? Yet, Arnold wanted to get to KNOW her. How was he this amazing?

All right, granted, they were stuck in this classroom for an indefinite period of time, and there wasn't anything else to do. They'd come in here to retrieve a very mean letter Rhonda and Nadine had written Curly and left in his desk. It was a long story, the point of it being that Arnold had found out and thought it was a horrible thing to do, and had enlisted Helga's help to sneak into school after hours. They'd managed it all right, but it turned out that this was the time the classrooms got locked for the night after all the cleaning got over. The janitor hadn't thought to look inside the classroom, not expecting there to be any students around at this hour, and had locked them in. By the time they'd found the letter and discovered that they were trapped in, the janitor was long gone, and nobody was around to hear them thumping on the door.

"Okay, you go first," said Helga, stretching her legs out in front of her. After sitting in the cramped desks for about an hour, they'd decided they had enough of sitting on them during school anyway, and had settled themselves on the floor against the wall at the back of the classroom.

"Okay," said Arnold. "Who is your least favourite person in the world?"

"Oh that's easy," said Helga, scowling. "Olga."

"Really?" said Arnold. He had been expecting her to say Lila, or maybe Harold. She always seemed to think Lila was irritatingly perfect, and Harold was ALWAYS stealing her food. "Your sister?"

"Yeah, my so-called _sister_," scoffed Helga. "I can't stand her. Bob comes a close second. Then Miriam."

"Your whole family?" Arnold was just a little shocked. He knew that Helga's home life wasn't exactly all roses and cream, but her LEAST favourite people in the WORLD?

"Yup. That's THREE questions, Football Head. It's my turn."

"Okay, hit me."

"Who is YOUR least favourite person in the world?"

Arnold considered, and Helga grinned.

"Boy, this oughta be good," she remarked. Goody-two-shoes Arnoldo fessing up about his deep dark demons. If he has any. Come on, Football Head, whaddaya got?"

"I think maybe Rhonda,"

"Why am I not surprised. I'm guessing it's because she's all high-handed and snobbish and insensitive?"

"I guess."

"Because she's mean to everyone?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, Arnold." Helga looked at him pityingly, shaking her head.

"What?" said Arnold, bewildered.

"You don't like her because she's mean to everyone. But Rhonda has always been nice to YOU. Why isn't there anybody you dislike because of how they behave towards YOU?"

"Well, most people are nice to me, I guess," said Arnold, confused.

"I'm not." said Helga firmly.

"You weren't, but you've been okay to me lately."

"New leaf," grinned Helga. "You know what your problem is, F.H., you think about other people too much, and you don't think nearly enough about yourself. That's never a good idea. People are going to walk all over you. They already do, sometimes."

"Hey, I'm always glad to be of help!" said Arnold, smiling. Helga sighed.

"Have it your own way, F.H."

"An abbreviation?" said Arnold, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah. We've never had a conversation long enough for me to address you more than once, before this. It gets tedious saying Football Head over and over again after a while. It's like I'm using your full name or something."

"Can't you just call me Arnold?"

"Nah."

Arnold grinned. Helga was always amusing, he noted. She could be mean and snappy and selfish and had a serious dearth of moral values, but she was always interesting to be around. Helga could never bore you. He liked that about her.

"Your turn, F.H." said Helga.

"Oh, right," Arnold pulled himself together. "What… is… your… favourite food?"

"Lasagna," said Helga. "That was a really lame question. S.F.H."

"S stands for stupid?" hazarded Arnold.

"Congratulations, you win first prize," Helga said sarcastically. Arnold snorted, which made her laugh. Her face was quite different when she laughed.

Helga had been really really homely as a kid. Up until the seventh grade, she had a monstrous unibrow. She even got braces in the fifth grade, and they lasted two years.

Finally, at the beginning of the eighth grade, Helga appeared looking very different. Her braces were gone, for one, and her overbite had reduced considerably, making her mouth look much more pleasant, and giving her quite a pretty smile. She had also learnt how to tweeze pretty well, resulting in two very well-arched eyebrows. She had stopped tying pigtails, and her blond hair hung around her face and developed a few loose waves on its own. She never really styled it, but it looked good on her the way it was.

Helga would never really be a girly girl. She couldn't stand high heels for one thing, and anyway all that beauty stuff bored her. Cleansing your face every night. Getting manicures. Rubbing lemon juice into your elbows. Bah! What a waste of time.

However, be that as it may, Helga WAS a girl, at the end of the day, and though she didn't have the patience for anything elaborate, she did want to look good. Hence the weekly torture of tweezing, and a little makeup, even. Nothing big, just some simple eyeliner and lipgloss. Sometimes mascara. That was mostly it.

"My turn," said Helga, spitting her gum into a piece of paper and folding it up. She got up to throw it in the dustbin. "What is the one thing you wish for the most in the world?"

Arnold sighed softly. This was an easy one. "To see my parents again," he said, looking at the floor. "To know that they're alive."

"Wow," Helga got back from the dustbin and sat down beside him. "Your wish is the exact opposite of mine."

"I know," said Arnold, looking up at her. "But I can't let go of it. I know it's been years. I know they're probably long dead. But I can't stop hoping. I never got any kind of closure, see."

"All right, Arnoldo," said Helga briskly. Arnold had been expecting her to be brisk, she generally always shied away from any kind of emotion. "I'm going to be straight with you. I don't think you really want your parents to be alive. Think about it. What if they are alive, out there, somewhere? Do you really like that they haven't come back for you? That they don't contact you? That they don't appear to miss you at all? It all comes down to this, Football Head. Would you prefer it if your parents were alive and didn't care about you? Or would you prefer to believe that they're dead, but that they loved you with all their heart when they were alive?"

Arnold didn't know what to say to that. Helga had a point.

"Hey," her voice was softer this time she spoke, and a strand of yellow hair swept over her eyes. She touched his arm very lightly. "I have parents who are very alive, and they don't care a whit about me," she said. "It sucks. You don't want that. I'm sure your parents loved you very much."

Arnold nodded at her, grasped by an irrational desire to take that strand of hair and push it gently behind her ear. How strange. Why would he want to do that? She tossed it back herself a second later. Ah well. It was a stupid idea, anyway.

"It's your turn, F.H.," she said, leaning back again and sounding more like herself.

"Oh, right," said Arnold, making an attempt to sound more like himself as well. "Okay. Whom do you like? As in a guy? As in LIKE, like?"

Crap. Why did he ask her that? What a dumb question to ask! What would she think now?

Helga was looking at him in a strange way, her face unreadable. "I want to pass this question." she said.

"But why? Come on, Helga. I won't tell," said Arnold.

"Arnold, I told you if I really didn't want to answer it not to force me."

"Wow, you called me Arnold. You're serious." He laughed. Helga didn't crack a smile. Arnold subsided. "Okay, okay. Different question. Ok, hypothetically, for you to like a guy, what is the first quality you'd look for in him?"

Helga rolled her eyes. "Wow, you really are fixated on this liking business," she said. "Fine, all right. Here you go: I would look for somebody who valued me as a person. Sappy, I know, but all my life I've been kind of neglected and unnoticed and, in the cases of people I beat up, feared. So that's what I'd look for. Somebody who liked me for me, and didn't want me to change and do my hair like Rhonda's and grow C-cups all of a sudden, and giggle maniacally like those other morons. That's what I'd look for first in a guy."

Arnold nodded. Wow, this girl was deep.

He'd always known that, of course. Helga Pataki was years above her peers in emotional maturity. Maybe it came from having a hard childhood, having to take care of herself most of the time. Maybe it came from the fact that she had to learn how to stand up for herself early on, something that had earned her the title of bully in elementary school. Helga was a very strong person. She was closeted at all times, her emotions shuttered. She wouldn't let herself be vulnerable to anybody. Her best friend Phoebe was perhaps the only one she opened up to at all. And Phoebe was a very quiet, trustworthy little thing, so nobody else really knew what went on in the head of Helga G. Pataki.

But you only had to look at their friendship to see that Helga wasn't remotely shallow or mean. She was unwaveringly loyal, and stood up for Phoebe anytime anybody picked on her. The fact that they were best friends after eleven years was telling in itself. Most other girls in their class regularly changed best friends every few months.

Arnold also knew that Helga wasn't shallow because she was so self sufficient. She never sought attention, or fame. She was very quiet about her talents. In the seventh grade, it was discovered that Helga had an amazing singing voice, but she hated going on stage and being applauded. She liked her space, and liked it a LOT.

"My turn," said the self-sufficient Helga. "And I'm going to put you in the same spot as you put me. What is the first quality you'd look for in a girl for you to like her?"

Arnold ruminated, scratching his head. He'd always thought that he'd want somebody NICE. Somebody with a soft voice and a kind smile, somebody who liked animals and children. Somebody very NOT Helga. Now, for some reason he wasn't so sure.

It's because she's being so interesting to be around, he told himself. I mean, if everybody liked sweet girls, there'd be nobody who liked Helga, and she doesn't deserve that. She's a pretty cool person. He suppressed a quiet voice in his head that was saying something completely different. Hey, well, this is about ME, he thought. And I like nice girls.

"She should be really nice and sweet," he said out loud.

"Sheesh," said Helga. "Your brains are totally soft. You're mush, Football Head."

"I guess I am," said Arnold, grinning at her.

"Don't smile at me like that, it's pathetic. It's beyond pathetic, it's disgusting. You really want a girl who's 'ever so nice'?"

"Wait, what?" said Arnold. Was she thinking that he liked Lila? Why would she imitate her way of speaking otherwise?

"Seriously, Arnoldo. So you wouldn't care if she was the dimmest person alive? As long as she smiled and twirled and played with little kids, you'd be okay with it?"

"I didn't say THAT," said Arnold, perturbed. What was with Helga? Why was she making him think so much about the ideas he'd established in his head so carefully over the past fourteen years? And why was she making him change his mind? How was she so right about everything? He couldn't even deny that she was! Sure it'd be nice to have a sweet girlfriend, but what if she had nothing to talk about? Wouldn't she bore him within a week? "Well, sweet and smart," he said.

"You only get to pick one quality," Helga told him.

"Well, what if your guy who likes you for you is dumb, huh?" he countered, feeling out of his depth in this conversation. He had to one-up the girl somewhere, and fast.

"Hey, news flash, Football Head. It's ME we're talking about," said Helga, poking him in the shoulder. "I don't think anybody is going to like me for my beauty, or my excellent social skills, are they? It's going to take some probing, some getting to know me. I'm guessing anybody who has the patience for that isn't exactly stupid, ya know."

Again! She was right, again! Why was this happening?

"Hey, I'm probing, and getting to know you," Arnold joked, hoping to get SOME kind of rise out of her. She looked at him, the strange unreadable expression back on her face.

"You aren't exactly stupid, ya know," she said, and stood up. "Anyway," she added, "Even though you know me, you don't like me for who I am, do you. So that's out."

Arnold didn't know what to say about this. 'I do like you for who you are' would sound like he was asking her out. 'You're right, I don't' would just be mean. Finally he settled for: "Hey, I don't know ALL about you yet. Who's to say how I'll feel when I do?" Helga blushed visibly. She stood there, in her pink shift dress and messy golden hair, her blue eyes wide and shocked.

Arnold was ecstatic. Finally, a reaction. Then he realized what sort of reaction that was. Oh crap. Why did he keep saying stupid things like this? Where was his brain? Why did he feel so confused? What was even happening? Stupid Football Head, he said to himself. Great. Now his brain had become Helga. What was going on?

"Yeah, well, I don't think so," said Helga shortly, and turned her face to the window, away from him. "Anyway, whatever. I'm sick of this game. Let's do something else."

They ended up playing tic tac toe for the next half hour, and then word association. Finally, Arnold's grandfather turned up with a custodian, and got them out of the classroom. Helga's parents probably hadn't noticed she was missing. They high fived each other goodbye and went to their respective houses.

"What did you do in there for all those hours with that girl, short man?" Grandpa asked him on the way to the boarding house.

"Nothing. We played stuff. You know. Passed the time." But he knew that what had transpired in that locked classroom was more that just the passing of time. Something had changed between Helga and himself, he could feel it. She'd let him see a side of her she usually hid, and it was different from the normal Helga Pataki. It was also different from any other girl he knew. He'd never seen it coming, but Helga Pataki's other side _intrigued_ him, and he wanted to see more of it. He didn't know what this meant, but he did know that he didn't want a sweet, boring girl anymore. He also knew that when he finally found his perfect girl, he would like her for who she was.

**END... or is it?**

**A/N: OK, so what do you think? Worthy of continuation? Not worthy of continuation? Coz I'm kind of sort of getting an idea for another chapter. You know, about how things start changing between those two, and what everybody thinks of that, etcetera etcetera. Come on, review! What are you still reading this crap for?**


	2. Whatever, Nadine

**What**_**ever**_**, Nadine.**

**Disclaimer: Yeah, so, between now and the last time I posted, I miraculously began owning Hey Arnold! NOT.**

**A/N: I love Helga's fists. Somebody should totally make a cartoon about Helga's fists. Hey, I'd watch!**

"Good Morninnnnng!" trilled Olga as Helga walked out of her bedroom, dressed for school. It had been a while since she'd worn her pink pinafore with her little white T-shirt. Fourteen year old Helga was more given to wearing faded washed out looking jeans, and generally a black T-shirt. Olga had been trying to get her to wear a skirt to school for a change, but Helga refused point blank. Her bridesmaid dress at Olga's wedding had been bad enough.

Olga had been married for two years now. Ray, her husband, was a pretty decent guy (which was why Helga had let the marriage take place anyway, she didn't need more morons in her family even if Olga had it coming to her), and the only one who paid any attention to Helga. Unfortunately, they only came to stay at the Pataki's a couple of times a year, for maybe two weeks each time. Helga didn't know whether to be annoyed that Olga was coming along, to be a pain in her butt yet again, or whether to look forward to discussing metaphysical poetry with Ray, who was a professor of literature, and wrote criticisms for intellectual-looking magazines.

"Mornin', Olga," said Helga, half-heartedly. She went into the kitchen to pick up her lunch box. For a change, there was food in it: a fat bologna sandwich. Well, Olga and her compulsive niceness had its uses, Helga supposed. "I'm going to school now, ok?" she said, walking out of the door.

To tell the truth, Helga was still all of a flutter from yesterday's little incident about being locked up in the classroom with the Love of Her Life. Not that she called Arnold that anymore. At twelve, Helga had gotten fed up of the crazy insane obsession she had with the football-headed little freak, and had dismantled all her effigies of him. She'd put her closet shrine out of business, and her locket… well, she'd gotten into a fit of rage at herself, that day, and hurled it under a steamroller that happened to be coming up the street. Gone were the days she'd stand behind garbage cans and confess to the stupid little photo that she loved the owner of the handsome, smiling face that was in it.

Gone was the old Helga, she vowed, and in her place was a big, fat block of denial that she denied was there. Yeah, life was just peachy. As usual.

She wondered how to behave around the object of her misguided affections today. After all, after yesterday's heart to heart – Helga had to have a dry chuckle at that – they were clearly not just classmates anymore. Surely, after that, they were friends.

It wasn't as though Helga didn't have friends. She had mellowed down a good deal since the fourth and fifth grade. Firstly because, after she got braces, fighting with people got a lot harder. All anybody had to do was sock her on the mouth, and she'd be done for the day. Secondly, by the eighth grade, Harold had grown about four inches taller than her, and something like five times bigger. Helga might be violent, but she hadn't lived fourteen years in Big Bob's house without having learnt some serious self-preservation skills.

The result of all this was that by now, Helga was pretty good friends with most of her grade. People enjoyed her sarcasm and her skill at imitating people, and over time they had learnt not to take offence at some of the blunt things she said. Helga, on her part, had stopped calling people names for no reason whatsoever, and everything was working out fine. The only difference between this and the friendship she and Arnold had suddenly struck up yesterday was the fact that she had opened up to him, however little. She had told him that she cared that her family neglected her, and she had admitted that she wanted to be liked for who she really was. There really wasn't any turning back for Helga G. Pataki after an admission like _that_.

She reached school, got into class, and sat at her desk. Phoebe, in the desk beside her, greeted her in cheery Japanese and offered her a gummy bear.

"Sure, Phoebs," said Helga, smiling and taking the bear.

"Hey Helga," said a pleasant, slightly husky voice.

"Arnold!" said Helga, and then pulled herself together. She wasn't supposed to like him anymore! What gave? She really needed to learn how to control herself around the boy. Old habits die hard, I guess, she said to herself with a sigh, and turned. "Hey, Football Head," she said, half-grinning at him.

"Some evening we had yesterday, huh?"

"Sure, Ar_nol_do, if you call being bored to death inside a locked classroom 'some evening', then yeah, we did."

"I do call it 'some evening'," said Arnold, grinning in the annoying way people have when they know something other people don't. Arnold now found it a million times easier to tell when Helga was kidding, and he knew this was one of those times. He also knew that if he ever let people know that he somewhat got her now, she would re-introduce him to his old friends, Betsy and the Five Avengers, regardless of the fact that he was an inch and a half taller that she was. He decided to keep it at annoying-grin level.

"That's nice. Don't you have something to do, Geek Bait?" said Helga, still smirking. "Somewhere to go be _positive_ or something?"

"Or I could go sit at my desk and leave you alone, huh?" Arnold offered, half laughing.

"Cool. I'll see you around, Football Head," Helga raised a palm, which Arnold slapped in a comradely manner before he went to sit down at his desk. Neither of them noticed the curious looks they were getting from the rest of the class for their strangely friendly behaviour.

By lunch, their behaviour got even more inexplicable by the standards of the rest of the grade. Arnold plonked his meal tray down at Helga's table, and Gerald, who had been nursing a soft spot for Phoebe for a while now, was only to happy to accompany him. Helga, much to everybody's intense astonishment, did not punch, throttle, kick or disfigure Arnold in any way. In fact, besides saying "what're YOU doing here, stink-wad" in an almost affectionate way, she did nothing! Except for make room for their trays!

Fifteen minutes into lunch, Rhonda could take it no more.

"Nadine. Sheena. Girls' room, _now_."

The three of them snuck off to discuss this new development, recognizing its potential as seriously juicy gossip.

"What is _up_ with Helga Geraldine Pataki, you guys?" she burst out, the instant they made it into the girls' room.

"I _know_!" agreed Sheena. "She's being so _nice_ to Arnold! I thought those two were sworn enemies!"

"Well, maybe that's going a bit too far," said Nadine, leaning back on the sink, her midriff-baring tank top showing off a flat stomach and enviable hip bones. "I think Helga got over her world-hating thing by last year. But still. _Arnold_. That girl has NEVER been even civil to Arnold since, like, elementary school. And now they're eating _lunch_ together, acting like they're old friends!"

"I guess it's got something to do with how they went to get that letter back yesterday," Rhonda said contemplatively. Y'know, the one we wrote to Curly anonymously, to try and make him see what a _loser_ he is, so he would get off my back already?"

"Oh, damn, did they get it?" said Nadine unsympathetically. "I spent like _hours_ trying to find the best offensive words."

"I totally saw this coming," said Rhonda, ignoring Nadine. "Didn't I tell you guys?" she demanded.

"Tell us what?" said Sheena, looking confused.

"You know, tell you that I think Helga's carried a torch for Arnold for a while now."

"I really don't think you did, Rhonda," said Nadine, who had come out from beneath Rhonda's shadow the last year, when she grew a pair of extremely perky B-cups and a butt to match. Rhonda, still pretty darn skinny, scowled at her.

"Of _course_ I did. I thought they kissed for WAY too long that time she performed in Romeo and Juliet."

"Yeah, you did think that," conceded Nadine. "But everybody thought that. They kissed for like six minutes straight!"

"Oh, what_ever_, Nadine," said Rhonda impatiently. "The point is there's something up with those two, and I wanna know what it is. You guys up for some espionage?"

"Oooh, exciting," squeaked Sheena happily. Rhonda rolled her eyes at Nadine and they walked out of the bathroom.

Lila unlocked the stall she'd been in and poked her head out. Well well. Arnold and Helga eating lunch together, now _that_ was a development.

Helga walked into the bathroom, humming under her breath. She went over to the mirror to make sure her eyeliner hadn't smudged.

"Hey, Lila," she said, glancing at the readhead, who was arranging her hair.

"Hey, Helga. Oh, hey, Rhonda and her bitches were in here a few minutes ago," said Lila, fluffing up her hair at the front. "They were talking about you,"

"Oh, I'll bet. What did they say? No, lemme guess, 'oh my _God_, Arnold and Helga are _talking_ to each other! I don't remember the last time they even _looked_ at each other without the burning embers of hatred in their eyes! Oh, what a _huge_ development! This is going to affect the whole _school_, and the whole _world_ and the _environment_! _This_ is the answer to global warming, poverty _and_ racism!' Yeah, that's Rhonda."

"Well, something along the lines of that," Lila giggled uncontrollably. Helga was probably one of her favourite people alive, and the person who'd taught her to be mean. It wasn't as if Lila couldn't stand up for herself and her ideas, but she hated being such a pushover sometimes. After Helga had given up her greatest secret to Lila so that she could get the role as Juliet opposite Arnold's Romeo, they had become friends on a different sort of level, in that Helga didn't really see any point hiding things from her. Eventually, they became pretty good friends. At the beginning of their high school freshman year, Lila had found herself included in the "popular" clique with a bunch of sophomore girls. Eventually, however, she realized that they only used her to fetch and carry, and she wanted to leave their little gang. They threatened to ruin her high school social life forever if she dared to do anything of the sort, but with Helga's help, she got past the problem. This incident cemented their friendship, and Lila determined to help Helga in gaining the affections of a certain football headed blond kid to show her gratitude towards her for her help.

"So, well, you ate lunch with Arnold?"

"Yeah, well, kinda did."

"How come? What happened? I mean, till, like yesterday you were hardly even friends! I mean, out of everyone in the grade, you two were the most distant with each other!"

It was perfectly true. In her final and to-be-successful-at-all-costs attempt to finally get over Arnold, Helga had hardly paid any attention to him whatsoever over the past couple of years. No spitballs, no random shoving, no pointing and mocking… and her task was made all the easier by the fact that Arnold didn't even notice. Helga was practically IGNORING him, and Arnold, to all purposes, didn't seem to give a crap. When she realized this, Helga finally confessed to herself that getting over him would probably be the best course of action. He didn't care a whit about her, and never would.

"Well, we kinda got stuck in the classroom for about three hours yesterday," she told Lila now. "Ended up talking… you know. Nothing big. We made friends, I guess."

"But that's ever so great, Helga!" said Lila enthusiastically. She still hadn't gotten over her country habit of saying 'ever so' all the time. It really made Helga want to punch her, sometimes.

"Eh. He's not _that_ fun to be around or anything," lied Helga blandly. "Keeps asking a bunch of stupid questions that nobody in their right minds would want to sit around and answer,"

"Come on, Helga; don't tell me you aren't totally excited that you were stuck with Arnold in a classroom for three hours!"

"What? Why would I be excited, Lila, for God's sake!"

Having washed her hands a little excessively thoroughly, Helga nodded at Lila and walked out of the bathroom.

The last thing she needed was that little nitwit trying to set her up with Football Head. She was totally OVER Football Head. Her days of sleepwalking all over to Football Head's house in the dead of the night were GONE. As were the little models of Football Head that she made with any medium she found lying around, be it chewing gum from Football Head's own mouth, or be it matchsticks and celery leaves. Her insane, obsessive, everlasting, frustrating crush on that _stupid_ Football Head was OVER. Why the HELL was she still tingling from yesterday's classroom conversation?

Helga stomped over to her table and sat down.

"Hey, what happened in there?" Gerald asked her through a bite of peanut butter and jelly sandwich. "You look pissed off!"

"Stuff a sock in it, tall hair boy, or I will!" said Helga rudely, and, grabbing her sling bag, she got up and left. Arnold and Gerald looked at each other. Then they looked at Phoebe.

"Hormones?" said Phoebe timidly, and Arnold and Gerald laughed.

Helga made her way to her locker, still seething. She felt a little sorry about yelling at Gerald, but she was so mad. What made her madder was that she was mad at herself in the first place, and the she had to go and offend a nice guy like Gerald who only wanted to know what was wrong! And that made her madder with herself.

"Oh, crimeny, I'm a complete basketcase!" said Helga to herself. She made her decision silently. It was time for another appointment with Dr. Bliss.

**A/N: If you review, the Gods of reviewing shall be pleased. Blessings shall be heaped upon you in plenty.**

**Oh, right, I did have a couple of other things to say. Firstly, if Nadine seems OOC, I made her that way. I figured they couldn't all be the exact same after five years, right? And I wanted somebody to be drastically different, so I picked her. Don't ask me why. **

**Secondly, no, Lila is not going to show her 'true colors' anytime in the future and claim Arnold as her birthright and property. For a change, I want to keep her nice. AND, kind of a wuss.**

**Also, thanks to Hellerick Ferlibay for making me see the error of my ways in robbing Betsy and the Five Avengers of their souls.**


	3. Therapy

**Therapy.**

**Disclaimer: Hey Arnold is mine, and pigs can fly. Awwww. Abner with wings! Isn't that just the best mental image you had since forever?**

**A/N: Why is Curly called Curly? As far as I can see, there's nothing curly about him!**

Helga loved Dr. Bliss's office. She loved that it was nice and large, with a bunch of bookshelves over on one side, and the doctor's desk and chair on the other, along with the couch. Not that Helga really lay on the couch that often. Sometimes she sat on it, but she found it way easier to talk when she was on her feet. That was why she usually ended up walking all around the office, perching on the window-sill for a few minutes maybe, or absently dusting off the surfaces of books with a finger while she regaled the doctor with the ever-so exciting details of her ever-so _fabulous_ life (yes, she sometimes mimicked Lila in her head, sue her. Hey, it wasn't _her_ fault the girl was so very mockable). Once, Dr. Bliss had asked her why she felt the need to keep walking around while she talked. Helga had thought for a while before replying: "Y'know, my thoughts are all over the place. If I have to collect them and tell them all to you in some sort of coherent order, I gotta be all over the place too, so I can pick them up one by one." Dr. Bliss decided not to tell Helga how impressed she'd been by this abstract reasoning.

She'd been visiting Dr. Bliss since she was nine, although as she got busier and busier with school, her visits got less frequent. By the time she was in the seventh grade, Helga had stopped going regularly, deciding instead to make a appointment each time she felt like she needed another session of getting things off her chest. Usually, these appointments were about three or four weeks apart, depending on what was going on in Helga's life at that point of time.

Helga's regular visits to Dr. Bliss was one of the major reasons Helga had got through her anger issues unscathed. The fury she had been bottling up since she was very little had been nearly all worked through over five years of therapy (read: really fun conversations) with her favourite child psychologist , who had finally actually written a book and put it into her bookshelf! She had told Helga that it was mainly inspired by her, and was about repressive tendencies in really creative children, and what the effects of these tendencies were. Helga didn't know whether to be flattered or really embarrassed.

"So, how has everything been going, Helga?" the doctor asked her pleasantly, as she walked in at five-thirty for her appointment.

"Oh, just great, Doc," replied Helga, looking worn out. "You know; the usual. Still doing cafeteria rounds for the school paper, getting the lowdown on the weekly menu. Still acing the heck out of Lit class. Still trying not to grow up to look exactly like _Ol_ga… and still a complete basketcase."

"Ah. What happened _this_ time?" asked the Dr. Bliss, suppressing a grin. Helga always amused her. For somebody who was hell-bent against repression, Dr. Bliss sure spent a lot of time trying not to giggle when her patients said funny things. It was an occupational hazard; psychoanalyzing children was usually bound to bring a lot of laughs. They always had a refreshingly amusing take on things.

"_This_ time, my dear Dr. Bliss, I got locked inside a classroom for three hours with a certain football-headed little freak."

"You don't say. How?"

"You know Rhonda, right? Fashion plate, really snobby? Well she decided to write a letter to Curly – a really _mean_ letter, too, to try and get him to leave her alone."

"Oh dear," said Dr. Bliss. Curly was another of the doctor's patients. He was a bit of a lost cause; he didn't seem to _want_ help to become less crazy. In fact, he appeared to rather enjoy being who he was, and the doctor applauded this attitude of his. However, as it was her job to teach Curly how to be himself without blowing up the school or scarring little children for life with his strange behaviour, she had taken him on as a challenge. It wasn't really going anywhere, and it had been three years since she'd started. Curly Gammelthorpe was kind of becoming the bane of her existence, but she refused to give up on him.

"I know, it was horribly mean," Helga went on. "Not that that would affect Curly in the slightest, ya know what I'm saying? I mean, that guy can find hidden symbols of love for him in Rhonda's _Algebra homework_! But then Arnold, he lacks that useful shortage of faith in the universe –"

"–the shortage _you've_ so carefully cultivated?" put in Dr. Bliss, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"Exactly," said Helga, pleased that Dr. Bliss had noticed. "Anyway, the little nerd decided it was too horrible, boo hoo, etcetera, and thought he would do his good deed of the hour by going and retrieving it. Now, Arnold can't sneak in or out of places if his life depended on it. It's really kind of ridiculous, I mean, he's in the ninth grade and everything – he's never cut class, Doc, did you know that? Never really, truly, skipped the heck out of it, just for fun! What kind of a ninth-grader _is_ he, anyway?"

"A conscientious one?" suggested Dr. Bliss, but cringed when Helga sent a glare her way.

"Please. Don't get all _disciplinarian_ on me now, Doc" said Helga firmly, and went on with her story. "Yeah. So. Arnold casts his mind around in search of a person who can get him in and out of school after hours. Guess who his mind settles on? Yours truly. So he calls me up, and since I am this big hearted moron who can't leave well enough alone, especially when it comes to my football headed ex-crush –" Dr. Bliss coughed pretty loudly at this – "what? Oh please. I am SO over him. Yeah so I skip along to school, and meet him in the shrubbery outside, and well, to make a long story a little bit shorter, we snuck in, and finding the stupid letter took so long, we sort of got locked in by the custodian when he came to close things down for the night. So there we were, in Curly Gammelthorpe's homeroom class, stuck for what could very well be the night if nobody found us."

"Wow," Remarked Dr. Bliss. "That couldn't have been fun, huh? Being stuck in a classroom with the guy you're supposed to be getting over?"

"Tell me about it," Helga said miserably. "And you don't know the worst of it, Doc. After a few minutes of bickering over whose fault it was that we were stuck in this predicament, Arnold started asking me to open up to him! I don't know how we even got there from 'it's all your fault, Football Head' and 'I thought you were _good_ at this, Helga!' but anyway, he was all: 'I want to get to KNOW you' and _I_ was all: 'oh heck, why? Why me?"

Dr. Bliss hid another chuckle behind her clipboard. "So, what did you say?"

"What did I say?" Helga asked incredulously. "What did I _say_? YOU tell me, Doc! I'm sitting there, with this boy I've been in love with since preschool, and he says to me 'I want to get to know you better, Helga!' What do you _think_ I said? Of _course_ I agreed! On the condition that we would take turns to ask questions to each other, of course."

"Of course," said Dr. Bliss with a smile. "I'm guessing this turned into a really great conversation?"

"Funnily enough, it _did_," mused Helga. "It turned into an _amazing_ conversation. But the point is, Doc –" she turned despairing eyes upon the doctor, who smiled sympathetically. "The point is, I really didn't need this right now! I was well on the road to recovery. I was _thriving_. I was FLOURISHING. Everything was going so great. And now –"

"And now?"

"And now I'm not so sure." Helga's shoulders slumped as she sank into the couch and reclined, exhausted from the conflicting feelings that never really left her.

"Oh, Helga," said Dr. Bliss sympathetically. "Look, are you _sure_ you want to get over Arnold? Because, and I've told you this before, forcibly making yourself stop having feelings for somebody is just another form of repression. You're repressing your love for this boy, and it's taking a lot out of you, you know that. Look at you, Helga, you've got bags under your eyes! You're exhausted! And it's all from this thing you have of wanting to get over him. Are you sure you want to do it?"

"Hey, Doc," said Helga gently. "I know you think I'm crazy to want to force myself to fall out of love, but here's the thing: I can't take being in love with him anymore. I've told you this before, haven't I? It's been crazy, watching him fall for one cutesy girl after another, knowing that he will never think of me as anything other than the girl who bullied him throughout his childhood. The girl who can't be cute, and flirty, and all that other stuff that Arnold likes his girls to be. The girl who's always going to be rough around the edges, and look like a fool if she ever tries to be anything else. Let's face it, Doc, this is how I am, and I am not his type. He has this idealistic, dreamy, optimistic thing going on, and I'm like a slap in its face! He's never going to be interested in me. Period. Now, I can be pathetic like Thaddeus Gammelthorpe, who refuses to take a hint, or, heck, the answer itself, even if it comes in the form of an actual kick in the nuts (yes, that happened), or I can pull myself together and move on. And you know me, Doc. Of course I pick moving on. Doi!"

Dr. Bliss sighed. Helga was right. Even though the doctor had always thought that Arnold might be carrying a torch of Helga somewhere deep in his subconscious, it just wasn't right that Helga had to wait around for him to figure himself out.

"All, right," she said affably to the tired-looking blond girl on the couch. "Clearly just trying to stop thinking about him isn't working. Fate seems to be throwing obstacles in your path right and left. Why don't you go for a more pro-active course of action?"

"Whaddaya mean?" inquired Helga, flipping over on the couch.

"I mean, have you tried looking for another guy to pursue? One who has a chance of actually liking you back?

"What, are you serious? Like I don't have enough boy problems on my plate already!"

"I don't mean fall hopelessly in love with him like you are –"

"Were," inserted Helga impatiently.

"–were! Were, with Arnold. Have you thought about just dating somebody else? Just to test the waters, you might say."

"You know something," said Helga slowly, raising herself on one elbow. "I haven't actually thought about that! Hey! That might even work!"

"Well, you could give it a shot," said Dr. Bliss.

"I _could_, couldn't I?" said Helga, looking a lot less haggard. "Can you suggest anybody, Doc?"

"How about Brainy?"

Helga laughed at that one for about ten minutes before she said "Yeah. Right."

......................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

Arnold was at the river with Gerald, throwing rocks, when he was approached by Sheena. Arnold liked Sheena. There was something very harmless and happy about her.

"Hey, Arnold, Gerald," she said as she got closer to them.

"Hey there, Sheena," said Gerald, aiming a particularly flat rock carefully at the river, hoping to make it skip.

"How's it going with you guys?" she asked, sitting down carefully on a large stone.

"Great," said Arnold, smiling at her.

"That's cool. Hey, Arnold, I wanted to ask you," Sheena began conversationally. "How come you and Helga were being so friendly today? I mean, like, yesterday you two hardly talked. I thought you were in a fight or something."

"We were never in a fight, Sheena," said Arnold, looking surprised. "I guess we just sort of drifted apart in the past two years. Helga stopped picking on me, and I guess I never really talked to her anyway, so for like two years we didn't really say anything to each other."

"Oh, ok. I was wondering. You guys ate _lunch_ together, today. I was a little surprised."

"So was everybody, man," said Gerald, shaking his head. He'd heard the story of the locked classroom only a while back, and found it very interesting. He had always been of the opinion that Arnold was into Helga. He, however, believed that it was impossible that Helga could ever like Arnold. When Gerald has asked, Arnold had denied having feelings for Helga even after the Locked Classroom Incident. Gerald wasn't convinced.

"Well, we made friends again, that's all," said Arnold. "I hadn't had a real conversation with her in like two years, you know. And then we finally talked, and realized that we could be friends now that she's over her lets-be-mean-to-Arnold phase."

"I wonder why she was always so mean to you, you know," Sheena said, thoughtfully.

"You know something?" said Arnold. "That is a very good question. In fact, I think I'll ask her that next time I see her."

"Okay, cool," said Sheena, getting up. "Tell me when you find out! I've always wanted to know why she hated you." With that, she walked off back the way she came.

"She has a point, Arnold," said Gerald, nodding at her retreating figure.

"She does," agreed Arnold.

......................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

On her way home from Dr. Bliss's office, Helga contemplated the conversation she had had with the psychologist. That was some idea she'd given her. Very simple, very achievable… it wasn't as though guys were just queuing up to date Helga, but she knew that she wasn't ugly or anything. Moreover, since she'd given up being a bully, she'd gained the more friendly reputation of being the 'mysterious'. Her sarcasm was even appreciated in certain quarters. As Helga ran all the guys she knew through her head, she decided she wanted to date somebody different. Not somebody from the PS 118 crowd. Somebody new that she met in high school. Now who could she possibly pick?

"I want the exact opposite of Arnold," she decided firmly. "I want somebody very realistic. And he should have dark hair, and it should be neat. And he should be a little mean, not nice like Arnold. His gaze should be piercing, not like Arnold's adorable half-lidded stare. And he should have brown eyes, not like the breathtaking blue-green ones Arnold has…" Helga slapped herself hard. "Idiot," she said to herself. She really needed to get out of this Arnold habit of hers!

She walked home, contemplating males.

Arnold sat by the river, contemplating her.

Lila painted her toenails a glossy red, contemplating how to get Arnold to fall for Helga.

Thaddeus Gammelthorpe gazed into a large glass sphere, contemplating the future…

**A/N: I know, I know, mockable isn't a word. But it works!**

**Poor Brainy. I like Brainy. He's so faithful! He never told anybody Helga's secret. What kind of stalker does that, I ask you?! And Curly…. ah, Curly. I've been waiting so long for an opportunity to include him in the story!**

**Review, O Mighty Readers. Only YOU can save us now!**


	4. A Geek or Two

**A Geek or Two.**

**Disclaimer: Hey! Arnold is not mine. He is Helga's. Ha ha ha ha ha! Seriously, that was beyond pathetic…!**

**A/N: Why is Brainy called Brainy, for that matter? He got **_**woodsperson**_** for his aptitude test, for crying out loud!**

"Ahah! Hahahah! HAHAHAH! AH!" Sweeping my arms frenziedly around over my head, I gazed into the opaque transparency of the bright crystal. Come on, I said in my mind, willing the words to reach the crystal: come onnnnn! The crystal stayed bright and perfect, but I still couldn't see anything in it. "Darn," I said in disappointment, and took off my purple mantle. Clearly, this wasn't working.

I threw the mantle aside and flipped through the manual again. "Here it is!" I thought, frustration building up in my veins, draining itself into my head and causing my brain to throb. Frustration mixed with Thaddeus Gammelthorpe can lead to disastrous results. I focused on breathing for a few seconds. There it freaking _was_! Say the incantation… wait till the reflection from the light coming in from the window is angled perfectly to hit your eyes, do the hand-motions, and presto! I should've been able to tell every last detail of the result of my endeavours to impress Rhonda at Iggy's party! Why was there still FOG in the stupid $*#^&! thing? Stupid, motionless, glassy FOG?

"This was a dumb idea" I mumbled. What was I thinking? I couldn't crystal-gaze!

"Cheer up, Curly," said Eugene from his chair next to my computer desk. "I can guess why this isn't working," he added.

"Do tell."

"Well, you're trying to use the crystal to make a choice. But if you haven't made the choice already, how can you possibly know the outcome?" Eugene explained earnestly. "My guess is that crystal can ONLY help you _see_ the future. Not make decisions about it."

"Sheesh," I said, feeling extremely disgruntled. Now how was I going to know if my plan would work?

"Ok," I said, thinking hard. "What about astrology? Can I at least check if the day is going to be a 'good day' for me? I mean, based on the alignment of the stars or something?"

"We'll have to make you a birth chart, in that case," said Eugene. "Gimme a pencil. I'm an expert."

"That's why you're here, Eugene," I informed him, rolling my eyes. "What do you need to know?"

"Birthday, birth month and birth time."

"You got it," I said, and told him. This is it, Rhonda Lloyd, I said to myself grimly. I told you that one day you'd be mine, and what Thaddeus Gammelthorpe wants, Thaddeus Gammelthorpe gets. You will be mine if it's the last thing I do.

I gulped, realizing that what I was planning may very well BE the last thing I did.

.......................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

"Hey, Arnold."

"Oh. Hi. How've you been?"

"I've been ever so great. What about you?"

"Oh, you know. The usual."

"We haven't talked in ever so long."

"I know. What have you been doing with yourself lately?"

"Well, I decided I was certain that I didn't want to do ballet anymore."

"Really? But you were so good at it!"

"I'm ever so certain I wasn't, Arnold! Besides, it was getting boring. I've decided to take up A Capella instead."

"Wow, that's… interesting."

"Oh yes, it's ever so much fun. However is your cousin, Arnold?"

"Arnie? Oh he's great. He's started a new collection, you know. This time it's used toothpicks."

"He's ever so creative and unconventional, Arnold!"

"Yeah, _that_ he is."

"I was ever so jealous back when he used to like Helga."

"Hahah, yeah. That was funny. She was so creeped out!"

"He liked her for at least three years, didn't he?"

"Till the seventh grade at least."

"Helga is ever such an interesting person to be around."

"I know."

"How would you know, Arnold? You haven't really spoken for few years, have you?"

"Actually, we sort of got re-acquainted with each other over the past couple of days."

"She's ever so amusing, isn't she, Arnold?"

"Yeah, there's never a dull moment around her!"

"I was oh so surprised when you two stopped talking after the seventh grade…"

"Well, I dunno. We just… stopped talking. We weren't great friends or anything, you know. She always kept picking on me."

"But I was oh so certain you had a soft spot for her, Arnold!"

"What are you talking about, Lila?"

"Oh, _you_ know, Arnold. I mean, you'd fight, but you always made ever such a great team! Like that egg project we had back in fourth grade, or that time the two of you managed to get Curly to come off the roof of the school building in sixth grade."

"Yeah! You know, I never thought of it before, but Helga and I _do_ make a great team, don't we?"

"She's ever so different from what she seems, Arnold."

"I know she is. But hey, at least she doesn't go around socking people in the nose and slamming them into walls anymore, does she?"

"She was oh so helpful to me at the beginning of this year."

"Really? I thought Helga hated you!"

"I'm ever so certain she doesn't, Arnold. Whatever made you think something like that?"

"Nothing, she just seemed to really hate you, Lila."

"Oh, Arnold. She's just ever so unsure of herself, that's all. It's just oh so embarrassing for her to admit to having feelings."

"Feelings? About what?"

"Just feelings, Arnold. She'd hate it if anybody knew she wasn't indestructible."

"Nobody's indestructible."

"Helga's ever so proud…"

"She is, isn't she."

"It's been ever so nice talking to you, Arnold! I have to go now. I'm certain I had a lovely time. You're ever such good company! Remember me to your cousin next time you talk to him, all right?"

"If there IS a next time…"

"See you around, Arnold."

"Bye, Lila."

......................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

"_You make me so angry_

_You drive me insane_

_I want to get over you_

_Come out of this pain_

_It hurts deep inside me_

_It torments my soul_

_Guarded so closely, yet_

_Hard to withhold…_

_I can't help but wonder_

_What you think of me_

_Though frankly I know_

_You don't like what you see_

_But what about all those_

_Things I don't show?_

_Things that are bound and gagged;_

_Things you don't know?_

_What about the Helga_

_Who lives deep inside?_

_What about the girl I_

_So carefully hide?_

_If only you'd dig deeper_

_My golden-haired love _

_You'd_… _you know what, he does dig deeper. He keeps wanting to know more about me. I mean, didn't he say he wanted to get to KNOW me?_

_What the hell am I doing writing poetry about the football-headed little dweeb anyway? I thought I was supposed to have stopped doing that by now._

_I HAVE stopped doing that by now! What the heck is going on? I'm supposed to be writing an essay! _

_Ms. Gallagher's totally looking this way. Well, she doesn't know I'm not doing her essay, but writing love poetry about Arnold. Some really BAD love poetry._

_Why AM I writing love poetry about Arnold? I'm not in love with him. I'm NOT in love with him! I'm not I'm not I'm not. No. I am OVER that stupid geeky little chump. OVER, I say. _

_Even if he IS the smartest, cutest, funniest, most amazing guy I've_

_HELGA G. PATAKI!!!_

_You know what? I'm going to punish you. Yes. I will set myself lines. It's the only way._

_I am over Arnold, and will not write love poetry about him._

_I am over Arnold, and will not write love poetry about him._

_I am over Arnold, and will not write love poetry about him._

_I am over Arnold, and will not write love poetry about him._

_I am over Arnold, and will not write love poetry about him._

_I am over Arnold, and will not write love poetry about him._

_I am over Arnold, and will not write love poetry about him._

_I am over Arnold, and will not write love poetry about him._

_I am over Arnold, and will not write love poetry about him._

_I am over Arnold, and will not write love poetry about him._

_I am over Arnold, and will not write love poetry about him._

_Sheesh_...

_Either this class is REALLY boring or I AM a complete basketcase. Or both."_

.......................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

He wiped his brow feverishly, the sweat threatening to fall into his eyes. If he screwed up this round, their team would be out of the semi-finals. He couldn't have that, now, could he? Not after the hours they'd put into researching and training and practicing for this competition. It was a big competition, too. Thirty high schools from their state were participating, and the trophy was very large and looked inviting. He knew he couldn't go home without it. He just couldn't.

He knew Hillwood High had one of the best debating teams in the state. The captain was unbeatable, the speakers were spellbinding, and he himself was a pretty good rebutter. He'd been an avid reader throughout his formative years, so his knowledge base was vast. He was one of the few people his age who actually read the newspaper end to end, instead of just catching the highlights on TV. He was pretty sure they were a high-quality team. But would they win? That was the question.

He'd never won in his life. He just never found anything he could truly compete in when he was younger. The Junior High debating team was filled with morons who just liked to hear themselves speak, and since these morons were usually popular kids, he never got a place in their team. He'd never been popular. In fact, for a while, he hadn't been the best orator in the world. His voice was too wheezy, and he had asthma problems which ruled his life for a large part of his childhood. Eventually, he was placed in special ed. to improve his speaking skills, and that was where he found out that he had a very convincing, deep tone of voice, which, coupled with his knowledge of current events and global issues, made him the ideal debater.

But his main aim was to find a niche for himself in High School. To find a sense of belonging, a meaning to his otherwise seemingly aimless existence. Nobody ever noticed him, or knew anything about him, and he was sick and tired of being the kid in the back of the bus. He wanted recognition, he wanted acknowledgement, he wanted to have friends and a social life and, most of all, he wanted to get the girl of his dreams.

After all, there wasn't much to him. He wasn't remotely athletic, and he wasn't exactly good looking, having a few more pimples than was really necessary. He didn't even get straight A's. He wasn't really even sure _why_ everybody called him 'Brainy'.

........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

"Okay, your color for this week is rose,"

"Great. I feel like perfumed hand lotion. What about next week? I only care about next week."

"Right. Next week… go with mauve."

"What?" I burst out incredulously. Was this guy for real? Was somebody _paying_ him to get me to make a fool out of myself? "Are you for real?" I demanded of him. "Is somebody paying you to get me to make a fool out of myself?"

"Hey, hey, Curly," said Eugene, looking frightened. "I'm telling you the truth, okay? Next week, your color is going to be mauve. And if you wear mauve, there's a better chance of your plan being successful."

"Holy shit, Eugene," I said despairingly. "I can't show up at Iggy's party wearing _mauve_! I'll get laughed out the door and back onto the street!"

"It doesn't have to be clothes, Curly," said Eugene, looking almost distraught. This kid usually cracks me up. It's just that I was kinda filled with horror at the moment, so, yeah. No manic laughter this time. "You can just slip on a single mauve accessory," he said earnestly.

"Like what?" I asked sarcastically, visualizing myself first in a mauve bandana, and then with mauve earrings."

"Like a watch. Or a belt or something."

"Right. Watch it is."

I should've guessed it, I thought grimly to myself. This was Eugene, after all. His stupid _go-kart_ back in the fourth grade was mauve. He wore a mauve cloth tied around his _neck_, for crap's sake. He loved mauve. But I have to trust him, I sighed. He's my only hope. What I plan to do at Iggy's party is by far going to be the craziest stunt I have _ever_ pulled.

"Go on, Eugene," I said resignedly. "What else have you found out?"

"Well, stay away from sharp objects this weekend," Eugene said, and I balled my fists up in frustration. Frustration mixed with Thaddeus Gammelthorpe can lead to disastrous results. And Eugene was a magnet for disaster.

"And you're going to meet an Aquarian with blonde hair tomorrow, whom you shouldn't trust… hey! Hey, what're you… stop… CURLY! OWWWW!

….I'b okay…."

**A/N: All right. Although it may seem filler-ish, this chapter is actually so that you get more of a rounded view of happenings, rather than just what one person sees. And it's introductory, which is why I haven't made it detailed. So, basically, there's more than one plotline, I guess. There's the Curly centric one, which includes Eugene, Rhonda and maybe others if I decide to add them later, and there's the Arnold X Helga one, of course, in which we have Lila, Brainy and I guess Phoebe and Gerald too, although I don't have anything much lined up for them as of yet, except the usual best friend roles.**

**Helga's part in this chapter doesn't really have much of a purpose, except comic relief. Hopefully it was funny, or else it's just pointless.**

**PS. The 'I'b' at the end isn't a typo. Eugene just got his nose bloodied.  
**

**In other unrelated news, my boyfriend thinks my writing is – get this – ONE-DIMENSIONAL!!! *gasps repeatedly*. Now, for one thing, I'm writing FAN FICTION, not some deep and meaningful novel about the human condition, and, secondly, it's a LOVE STORY for crap's sake! It's almost chick-lit! What do you want me to do? Add symbolism??? I'm trying to entertain people here, not infuse everything with hidden meanings that will shed light on the ways of the world and the beauty and pain of life or whatever!!! Sheesh. MEN. Anyway, even so, I don't think it's one dimensional. I mean, I'm no Jane Austen, but I think I write pretty ok. The characters have ok depth, right? Right guys? Please tell me I don't suck!**

**Anyway. Rant over.**

**One more thing. I want to thank my reviewers, who are amazing and really really helpful and encouraging and just awesome, basically! I'm sure I've replied to everybody who's registered, so here are the few anons I haven't replied to:**

**READER: I thought of that too! I think that's probably it. Curly as in twisted.**

**Morrigan's-Pride: Yeah, but it IS Curly. I guess he's just grasping at straws.**

**pc, Gaby and Salome: You know.**


	5. Quit Playing Games

_**Quit Playing Games.**_

**Disclaimer: Nah.**

**A/N: Sorry I took so long on this one. I hope you like it!!! **

Elliot Ackley was in a good mood. He hummed a Backstreet Boys song under his breath, one that had been running through his head all morning. It was catchy, but then again, 'Catchy' could be the Backstreet Boys' middle name. If 'Street' wasn't already. Wait, did the 'Street' count as a middle name? Nah, coz if that was how it worked, he could totally call them the 'Back S. Boys', or even just the 'Back Boys' and _that_ just didn't sound right. Mmmmm hmm hmmm HMMM.

It was such a nice morning! Yes, Elliot had definitely woken up on the right side of his bed today. He had half-skipped all the way to school, and even helped an old lady cross the road. Even school had been beautiful today, so far. Lit class was always a breeze, but today they'd just begun analyzing romantic poetry from the 1800's and it was just so _sweet_. Elliot Ackley was one happy kid at the moment. He opened his locker with a flourish, and proceeded to keep his Lit text carefully inside it. He rummaged around for his timetable.

"Hey Elliot," said Helga Pataki, walking up to her locker, which was next to hers.

"Oh hi, Helga!" said Elliot, smiling winningly at her. "How was your morning?"

"I don't know, it just got started," said Helga, raising an eyebrow. "You look like you're having a nice day."

"You bet I am," said Elliot, beginning to hum under his breath again. Helga rolled her eyes. Then suddenly, she stood up straight seemingly having realized something.

"So, Elliot," she began casually, "What do you do? Y'know, in your free time?"

"Oh, lot of stuff," Elliot said breezily. He felt rather flattered. Helga Pataki was taking an interest in him. Now, she'd never exactly been his type, but he guessed she was sort of hot… in her own way. "I read a lot," he began to say.

"Really? I read a lot too. I guess we have a lotta stuff in common, huh? What kind of books do you read?" Helga looked like she was trying to smile delightedly back at him, but Elliot could tell she was forcing it out of herself. Now why would she do that?

"You know. Edward De Bono stuff. I also really liked _Jonathan Livingston Seagull_ by Richard Bach."

"Don't you read anything… lighter-hearted?" said Helga, who looked rather irked, Elliot thought. He hoped he hadn't done anything to annoy her. "I do read _Goosebumps_ sometimes," he admitted with an embarrassed little smile. "What about you, Helga, what kind of books –" But Helga had already left, and Elliot looked at her retreating figure with some astonishment. For a second, he could have sworn he heard her voice sigh: "Hoo boy."

Well, that was certainly very strange, Elliot Ackley thought, turning back towards his locker. Oh well. He went back to humming _Quit Playing Games_.

……………………………………………………………………………………………....

She was never going to find another guy she liked even a little bit, was she? Helga fumed as she strode down the hallways of Hillwood High. Honestly. Self-help books. GOOSEBUMPS, for crying out loud. Helga didn't know why she even tried. Of course, by a random twist of fate, her reason confronted her.

"Hey Helga."

"Oh, hey, Hair Boy." Helga ran nervous fingers through her own hair.

It was always disconcerting when she ran into Arnold while thinking about him. Somehow, running into him at times like this made her feel strangely always got the irrational feeling that he could see into her mind and discern exactly what she was thinking, and that it was about him, and she was sure something in her face would give her mind away. When she was younger, Helga was given to violence a lot more than she was now, even with herself. She remembered how she used to constantly give herself a resounding slap across the face when things like this happened in elementary school. Unfortunately, that wasn't an option anymore. Arnold had gotten a lot less dense and a lot more shrewd since those days. He'd notice.

"What class do you have next?" Arnold asked her casually.

"Um, I have World History, I think," Helga said, mentally shaking herself. "You?"

"I've got Algebra," he said, his half lidded eyes regarding her mildly. "I guess I'll just see you at lunch, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess," said Helga, still trying to control the strange flustered feeling threatening to overtake her. "Seeya, Arnold." Arnold nodded at her and started to leave, but suddenly, he turned back to her.

"Hey, Helga."

"What is it, Football Head?"

"I still want to get to know you better, okay? I haven't forgotten. I am going to get you figured out yet." He winked at her in a teasing manner, and Helga's heart began to thump wildly, she had no idea why.

"I'd like to see you try, Paste-for-Brains!" she said, trying valiantly to insert some amount of venom into the retort, but the effort fell flat. Arnold laughed in a comradely fashion.

"I'll see you later, Helga," he said, turning around and leaving.

Helga heaved a huge sigh. Why was this still happening to her?

The truth was, her feelings had actually lain dormant for a while. Oh, she had never come even close to getting _over_ Arnold, but she had stopped feeling short of breath whenever he was around to a pretty great extent over the past year, and had been congratulating herself on the progress she had made. Little had she known that one stupid day she'd be stuck in a stupid classroom with him, and all her hard work would unravel before her eyes. _Not_ that she admitted it to herself, of course. No. It was high time she found a decent guy to go out with, and forgot all this Football Head nonsense. The encounter with him right now served to strengthen her resolve, and Helga went about her task of trying to find Mr. Perfect Replacement with a renewed vigor.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"What are you doing?" Brainy asked as he walked into the classroom, empty save for one girl.

"I was… I was…"

"Is that what I think it is?" demanded Brainy, going over to her and snatching it from her hands. "Yeah. It is. Why is this with you?"

"I sort of… stole it from her yesterday."

"What? You went to her house?" Brainy asked, half indignant, half admiring.

"I'm sure it's not what you're thinking Brainy! I only went over so we could do our Lit homework together. We do so pretty often."

"And you snuck through her stuff?"

"I'm certain I didn't sneak through her stuff, Brainy. I'd appreciate it ever so much if you didn't make assumptions about me. It was simply lying on her bedside table, and when she went downstairs to get us some hot chocolate, I stuffed it into my bag."

"You're impossible, Lila. Why did you do that?"

"I did that because I believe it could help us." She said, tossing her head in that little way she had.

"Help _you_, you mean. You forget I want no part in this."

"Why, Brainy, I thought you were ever so over her?"

"I am. That doesn't mean I think he deserves her." Brainy shook his head firmly.

"That's oh such a silly notion, Brainy," laughed Lila. "Arnold is a wonderful guy. And Helga's wanted him since ever so long!"

"I don't need _you_ to tell me that," said Brainy, finally sitting down in the desk next to hers. "I was there, remember? Every time she needed to vent her frustrations, I was there."

"Poor Brainy," Lila said, patting his arm. "I'm certain I don't know whether or not he deserves her, but look at it this way. She's wanted him for ever so long. And I think she should get what she wants, for once in her life. Don't you agree?"

"I guess," said Brainy grudgingly. Though he claimed he was over her, Brainy was still fiercely protective of Helga, having watched her get hurt by Arnold over and over again since they were little. But, he remembered, there were all those times he'd watched her, times when she was deliriously happy, and even that was all Arnold's doing. So, he reasoned, he might as well go along with Lila's crazy schemes. If it made Helga that happy, it was worth it.

"Show it to me," he said to Lila, who handed the object over. Brainy examined it closely. "Whoa!" he said. "Look at all this!"

"I know. I've gone over it pretty thoroughly."

"I'm impressed," said Brainy, gazing at the thing that so amazed him. "She's always hidden this part of her so well… even _I_ didn't know she'd done this!"

"I don't think anybody did," Lila said. "But we're going to tell Arnold."

"Don't you think Helga would mind?"

"No, I don't. Not if it makes Arnold happy, and I know it will. He does like her, you know." Lila sighed. "I think they should be together, and if they're too dense to manage it themselves, they're going to need external help. And I'm happy to provide them with that."

"I guess," sighed Brainy. He looked at the object again. Helga never failed to amaze him.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Hey, Arnold?"

Arnold turned around, pausing on his way to class.

"Oh, hi, Eugene," he said, as the redheaded kid caught up with him. "What's up?"

"I kind of have a… moral dilemma," Eugene said, looking nervous. "I was wondering if you could give me some advice, Arnold."

Arnold nodded at Eugene curiously. Of late, people had stopped asking Arnold for advice, preferring to find their own way about things. They only came to him if there was something really wrong, something they couldn't afford to make a mistake about. Arnold, of course, was more than happy to help out.

"Go ahead, Eugene," he said.

"Well, what if you have this friend," Eugene said uneasily. "And he's planning something, but you don't know what it is. But you're scared it may be… well… dangerous. Should you do something about it?"

"I don't see what you can do if you don't know what he's planning," said Arnold. "What makes you think it's something dangerous?"

"Nothing, just a feeling," Eugene said hurriedly. "Thanks, Arnold."

"You could keep an eye on him just in case, though," Arnold said as Eugene retreated.

"I guess," Eugene said, walking away. "See you around, Arnold."

Arnold half-smiled at him and turned back towards the way he'd been walking. Catching sight of a flash of blond hair to his right, he jerked his head in that direction, thinking it was Helga. It turned out to be Nadine, which for some reason disappointed Arnold. He didn't acknowledge the feeling though. There was no reason to be _disappointed_ just because a blond person he saw wasn't Helga. That would just be stupid.

"Hi, Nadine," he said, smiling at her. Arnold always liked seeing his PS118 friends around. High school was fun and everything, but he'd grown up with these people, and to him, they would always come first.

"Heyo, Arnold," said Nadine, nodding at him. She was another one who'd changed since the good old elementary days, Arnold thought, looking her over appraisingly. She was wearing an olive green tank top and black skinny jeans, and man, did she look good. Her skin was naturally somewhat tan, and she had extremely well-formed features. It was strange that she wasn't seeing anyone, Arnold reflected. She really had changed so much compared to how she used to be, even though her insect obsession was still going strong.

While he was on the topic of change, what the hell happened to Helga? As far as Arnold could remember, she was tough, sarcastic and unibrowed, and he was her favourite punchbag. Then, she pretty near disappeared from his life, and he was this close to forgetting about her. He hadn't noticed the girl since the end of the sixth grade, come to think of it. She was always around, somewhere, but he was surprised to learn that even though they went to the same school, he hadn't realized at all WHEN she managed to do all this growing up.

Her hair, he ruminated, was one of the best changes she'd gone through. Free of its restrictive pigtails, it hung golden and shiny down her back. For a second he remembered the instant during their conversation when he'd wanted to brush a strand of it away from her forehead and tuck it behind her ear. How random was that, thought Arnold, half a grin appearing on his face as he entered class. You'd think he had a crush on her. What a ridiculous notion.

Entering class, he sat down and opened his books. His teacher began to talk.

One of Arnold's greatest problems with academics was that he could never concentrate. The boy was ridiculously prone to daydreaming. When he was younger, he would fantasize about getting into a jet plane and flying off to San Lorenzo to rescue his parents. During his crush on Ruth, he would imagine saving her from a burning building and other such situations. These daydreams always ended with Ruth throwing her arms around him and pledging her life to him. During his crush on Lila, he would imagine winning her heart with his witty remarks, and taking her on dates to sophisticated places. Funnily enough, these dreams also somehow ended with Lila throwing her arms around him and pledging her life to him. During his short-lived crush on Rhonda, he imagined earning lots and lots of money, and carting her to places in a limo. For some reason, this caused her to throw her arms around him and pledge her life to him too.

Today, Arnold had lost himself in a different daydream: one involving Helga.

It wasn't a far fetched situation. It wasn't a situation where Arnold ended up as the hero. It was just plain conversation. Helga was sarcastic and called him names, and he teased her back and laughed when she said something funny, which was often. He told her his views and she listened, and added her own very incisive comments and opinions. They discussed life, people and ideas. And it was _comfortable_. He felt as though he'd like to go on and on and on talking to her.

It didn't end with her pledging her life to him. But she did kiss him on the cheek. That's when Miss. Dalrymple rapped on his desk and shook him out of his reverie.

"Arnold! Did you listen to anything I said?"

"Uh, sure, Miss Dalrymple, you were, uh, talking about…"

"About?"

"Uh…."

"Lovely. If you could kindly pay attention for the rest of the lesson, boy," she snorted in an annoyed voice, and went back to the board. Arnold promptly fell back into his reverie.

Why was he having daydreams about Helga? he enquired of himself. Why Helga? Even though it wasn't, you know, _romantic_ or anything, why daydreams?

Of course, Arnold admitted, she was very fun to be around. She was smart, witty, and genuine to the core. There wasn't really any reason not to like her, Arnold decided. He just… didn't. He and Helga were different, he reasoned. It would never work. He had _grown up_ with her, for crap's sake. He couldn't just suddenly change his idea of her, could he?

What _was_ his idea of her, anyway? He had never disliked Helga, he knew that. He had been annoyed with her, and infuriated by her, and irritated because of her, time and time again, but he had never hated her. Because, deep down, he knew that she wasn't a bad person, that she was just very very scared of being vulnerable to anybody. That she had a lot of pride.

Arnold never really _could_ hate Helga, he knew that too. She'd done horrible things to him, that was true, but she'd done a lot of nice ones. And the nice ones she'd done were really… nice. Nicer than anybody could believe of her. Like the time she helped save the neighborhood, that was nice! And when she saved him from being used by that conniving Summer girl. Helga had a mean, blustery veneer, sure, but, well, he was pretty sure she had a soft, mushy interior. And lately, well, he was just itching to find it. He had to know more. Why, pondered Arnold furiously, why did he HAVE to know more?

"It's the hair," he muttered, sighing. She really did have beautiful hair.

…………………………………………………………………………………………….

Elliot Ackley was walking out of his Biology class, when he spotted Helga in the crowded hallway. He decided to make his way towards her, and ask her why she'd walked away from him in the morning, and whether he'd done something to offend her. Elliot hated to think he may have offended somebody.

Drawing closer, he noticed that she was talking to a boy he knew from Algebra, Gilbert Something. She seemed to be trying valiantly to engage herself in the conversation she was having with him.

"You're really pretty, Helga," Gilbert said, almost accusingly.

"Oh, Gilbert," Helga laughed uneasily. "You're such a flatterer."

"I'm totally serious. Have you seen the rack on you?"

Elliot squeezed his eyes shut as the was a resounding bang in the corridor. Opening them apprehensively, he was just in time to see Helga walking away, looking mighty pissed, while Gilbert Something Whatever His Name Was tried to stem his newly contracted nosebleed.

**A/N: FINALLY!!!!! Done!!!! Jeesh, you have no IDEA what the past couple of weeks have been like. If any of youse are doing or have done the IBDP, you will know what I'm talking about. On top of that, did you SEE what those fucked up t****error-mongers did to my beautiful city???? Forty eight hours I was glued to the TV, watching the Taj, the TAJ, the ICON of South-Bombay untouchably-awesomeness, burn while they slaughtered people inside it. Bastards. I hope they burn slowly in the sulphurous fires of hell. Except for that one guy who survived, and he's in an Indian prison being interrogated, which may just be worse than hell.**

**I can't even blame the terrorists, really. They were just kids. A couple of them were MY age. They could be my CLASSMATES, for crying out loud, but no. They were brainwashed into thinking killing people for "religion" is a great honor, and there you have it. **

**But seriously. They could've left the Taj alone. **

**Anywho. Three cheers for those who review. Please like this one? Hellerick Ferlibay: This means YOU! **

**Anons: **

**Ann5: I'm glad you liked the Helga in this. And, don't count your chickens before they're hatched! **

**Ruby: Here you go! I'm glad you liked it.**

**JBC: I can't believe you put that name in. Seriously. I'm abbreviating it. FOREVER.**

**Gaby: So here's chapter 5!!! :D**

**Penny: Thanks for the encouragement.**


	6. Grapevine and Ice Cream

_Grapevine and Ice Cream._

**Disclaimer: Look, NO! I DON'T own Hey! Arnold!!! NOOOOOOO. *sobs and writhes on floor.***

**A/N: Ok, somebody **_**please**_** explain to me WHY Harold calls Helga 'Madam Fortress Mommy'. What IS that about? I feel so out of the loop on that one!**

Lila was facing a dilemma.

She wanted to get Helga and Arnold together. Ever since she had taken it upon herself to do this for her unlikely friend, she had begun to think of it as her pet project. She wouldn't call it an obsession; at least, not yet, but she was beginning to think about it a lot. Enough that that she knew she wouldn't be able to rest until she had finished what she wanted to do. And she wanted to get Helga and Arnold together.

But she was facing a dilemma, and this dilemma was about whether or not she should break her promise to Helga and tell Arnold about her feelings for him. On one hand, Lila thought, sighing, there's the fact that Helga trusts me to keep her secret. And all right, so she told me the secret in a moment of weakness, but I _did_ promise never to tell. But on the other hand… Lila smirked, kicking the ground to get her porch swing to move again, as she imagined what Arnold would say if she told him everything Helga had done for him over the years, and enjoyed the image that her mind was providing her with.

But wouldn't that be a good thing? Lila asked herself, probing the extent to which she understood human psychology, and probing what she knew of Arnold's personality. Wouldn't it be great if Arnold knew everything Helga had done for him? Because not only would it prove to him that Helga loved him, it would also show him a different, selfless, giving side of Helga's personality, the side he had always wanted to see. Wouldn't that help her cause along significantly?

Lila kicked the ground again, harder this time, and as she swung back and forth, her red hair whipped past her face, and fanned out behind her. She thought long and deep, little furrows appearing in her brow. Of course, she'd have to do it subtly, she decided. She couldn't just spring it on the poor guy; he wouldn't know what to make of it. She couldn't just walk up to him and show him the evidence of Helga's undying devotion. She had to go slowly, and go about it in such a way that Arnold wouldn't even know of her involvement in it. Yes. That's what she'd do. She'd let Helga's deeds speak for themselves. So now she knew the next step to take to further her pet project. She would have to contact Mai Huynh.

She got off the swing, but before she could go into the house to call her partner in crime, Brainy stepped onto her porch. He was sick of hiding in the shadows, and sick of being the one who watched from a distance. This time, he wouldn't make the same mistake. This time, he was going to be the one in the foreground.

"What are you planning now?" he asked Lila abruptly. Lila told him.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

It wasn't a date.

For one thing, almost everybody went out to get something to eat after school. There were at least a dozen food places lining the streets on the way home from Hillwood High, or, in any case, the direction in which Arnold and Helga's homes lay, along with the other PS 118 graduates. This wasn't even "something to eat", really, Helga told herself firmly. This was just ice cream.

She did take a moment, however, to marvel at the irony of it all.

"So, what do you wanna get?" she asked Arnold, getting her act together. She had lost control that morning, when Arnold had bumped into her in the hallway, but she wasn't about to let it happen again. Helga Pataki got tongue-tied in front of nobody! Not even her ex-love, who suddenly happened to go completely crazy and ask her out to… er, ask her to get some ice-cream. No out. No out at all. Because, damnit, this was NOT a date!

"I dunno," Arnold said, looking at the menu. "Chocolate Bubblegum Ice cream Shake," he read out, looking slightly disturbed. "What IS this stuff?" he wondered aloud.

"They're trying to be innovative, Arnoldo," Helga said lazily. "Y'know, mix and match stuff, go crazy with the blender, that kinda thing?"

"Crazy is right," Arnold said, shaking his head. "I'll have a Belgian Chocolate ice cream, plain and simple. What about you, Helga?"

"I think I might just go with the Chocolate Bubblegum Ice cream Shake," Helga said, grinning.

"You're kidding me," Arnold replied, grinning back.

"Nope. I like to try new things," said Helga, winking at him as she raised a hand to hail a waiter.

"You'll let me try some, won't you?" asked Arnold once they had placed the order.

"Sure, _now_ you want to try some," said Helga in a teasing voice.

"What _really_ scares me," Arnold mused "is the 'bubblegum' part. It just doesn't sound good next to 'chocolate', and particularly 'shake'."

"Maybe they just mixed the two ice creams together, you ever thought of that, Bucko?"

"Oh, so like chocolate ice cream mixed with bubblegum ice cream and then made into shake?"

"Yup, I'm guessing that's what it is," Helga said. "Pretty simple, huh?"

"Yeah, actually, it is," said Arnold. "Funny how you can break something into its component parts and it ends up being way more understandable than you thought."

"Hey, that's actually pretty good, Football Head," Helga said appraisingly.

"Isn't it?" said Arnold grinning. "Thank you, thank you. You know, it kind of describes you, Helga."

"Oh sure," said Helga, giving herself a discreet mental pat on the back for not blushing. "You think if you broke me up into parts, you'd see what a simple soul I truly was?"

"Well, no, I don't think you're a simple soul," Arnold said, getting thoughtful. "But I do think I'd be able to understand you better. The way things are right now, I don't even KNOW all of your component parts."

"Stop talking about me like I'm a car, wouldja, Arnold?" said Helga, deciding it was time to change the subject.

Arnold laughed. He really enjoyed spending time with Helga, and every minute in her company enforced this opinion within him.

"Hey, Helga," he said, as his Belgian chocolate double scoop arrived, complete with colorful sprinkles. "I heard you beat up some kid in school today. What was that about?"

"Oh jeez," said Helga, leaning back as she waited for her shake. "I'm going to have to shred that grapevine into little pieces, aren't I?"

"Huh?"

"Oh, nothing. I had to beat up the guy coz he didn't seem to know how to behave around women, that's all."

"What do you mean?" Arnold enquired, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"I mean he said something downright inappropriate, Football Head," Helga answered. "Now, enough questions. What is this, a talk show?"

"Whatever you say, Helga," sighed Arnold, unable to stifle a grin.

A couple of minutes later, Helga's shake made it to the table.

"Yay," said Helga looking pleased, as she pulled the straw towards herself and puckered her lips around it. Quite suddenly, Arnold felt something strange and swoopy happen in his stomach, as though it had been kicked from the inside. _This is_ _strange_, his subconscious had time to note, before his brain stopped working completely. _Really, really strange_.

"Earth to Hair Boy!" Helga, waving her hand in front of his face, looking at him concernedly. "You ok, Arnold?"

"Sorry… yeah. Just… zoned out there for a bit! This, um, ice cream sure packs a punch, huh?" said Arnold hurriedly, pulling himself together.

"You wanted a sip of my shake, if I recall correctly," Helga said, offering him the glass.

"Oh… sure…" Arnold grabbed it, putting his mouth to the straw. _You're practically kissing her_, his subconscious felt the need to inform him. Shut up, he told it. We're not in the fifth grade anymore, Subconscious. I won't catch her cooties if we drink from the same freaking straw!

_Look at it your way, _said his subconscious snidely. _All I know is that her lips were here, all wrapped around this very straw, looking very pink and full and…_

Arnold spluttered violently. This was ridiculous! His cheeks began to go red as he choked, chocolate-and-bubblegum flavored liquid going up his nasal tract. Helga thumped his back, looking astonished and rather concerned about his health, both physical and mental. This is embarrassing, Arnold thought, while his subconscious giggled a little bit. How he wanted to punch it! Stupid part of his brain, putting ideas into his head! Ideas he was fully going to have to sort out once he got home… because, unless he was very much mistaken, Arnold was beginning to get attracted to Helga!

"What's going on with you, Football Head?" Helga said, almost tenderly, as Arnold got his breath back, tears forming in his eyes from the all the choking.

"I'm okay, Helga," he said downing a spoonful of his ice cream. "The shake went down the wrong way, I guess."

"But it's pretty good, right?" Helga wanted to know.

"You know, I guess it is," he told her, smiling at her pleased expression.

"You oughta try some new things, Football Head," she said, looking up at him with those blue eyes of hers. "You always play safe, and it's not healthy."

"What do you mean, not healthy?" Arnold asked in mock indignation. "I have a few likes and dislikes, and I stick to them. What's wrong with that?"

"What's wrong with that, Geek Bait, is that you're too afraid to try anything else!"

"I am not too afraid to try other stuff," argued Arnold, although he was perfectly aware that he was fighting a losing battle.

"You are too, Hair Boy, and don't argue with me," Helga said obnoxiously. "You hold on to things. Like that hat of yours. Thank God you've stopped wearing it. But you have it stashed somewhere in your room, don't you?"

"Yeah, but Helga, that hat is of sentimental va –"

"I know, I know. Your parents gave it to you before you left. Okay, try this one: How many girls have you been in love with?"

"I don't think I've ever been in _love_, Helga," Arnold told her.

"Sure, but I mean, you know. Had a crush on or something." Was it his imagination, or did Helga look slightly pleased at his information? Definitely his imagination, he decided after a minute, after all, why would the idea that Arnold had never been in love mean anything to Helga?

"Oh, I dunno, three or four," he replied to her question.

"Well, name one thing common about all of them."

Arnold struggled to pinpoint a common factor, wondering why Helga was asking him this, and how it had any bearing on the conversation they were in the middle of.

"They were all really nice," he managed to blurt out. "Well, except Rhonda," he added as an afterthought.

"You had a crush on _Rhonda_?" Helga said, looking extremely surprised.

"Yeah, but for like a week. It was a lame seventh grade thing," Arnold told her, grinning wryly at the memory.

"Oh," said Helga, looking a little stunned. "Wow. _That_ was something I never saw coming. Anyway," she added, looking slightly more normal now. "What I meant to say is, you always fall for the same type of girl. The ones who fall in the ideal-of-perfection category. You never give the different types a chance. You know, the most beautiful gift can come in the plainest box."

Before Arnold could compose a suitable reply to this question, Helga started talking again, looking slightly pink.

Why would I bring this up now? she asked herself despairingly. Why? This was NOT where the conversation was supposed to go!

"Anyway," she began, desperately trying to cover up her blunder, "Guess what that Gilbert Hayes kid said to me today."

"Gilbert Hayes? Who's that?" Arnold asked

"You know, the kid I beat up," Helga reminded him. Thankfully, this was sufficient to distract Arnold from her previous words.

"Oooh, tell me," Arnold said, pleased that she'd decided to let him know.

"He, uh…" Helga said, realizing what she'd gotten herself into. "He kinda said…" whoa, she berated herself. Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place! And who did this? You did it, Helga Pataki. You and your stupid, idiotic, obnoxiously big MOUTH. "Hesaidhaveyouseentherackonyou," she said hurriedly, blushing red and looking at a spot two inches from Arnold's right elbow. "Or something to that effect…" she finished, trailing off in her embarrassment.

"_What?_" said Arnold, going a little red himself.

"Heh… yeah," Helga said, rubbing the back her neck and keeping her eyes fixed where they were. "Pretty dumb, huh?"

"I'm glad you slugged him!" Arnold said in outrage. "The nerve of that guy!" Helga smiled at him; it was an unusually sweet smile.

"Don't get so mad, Arnold," she said, still very pink in the face. "I gave him what he deserved. All guys aren't as, well, _nice_ as you, you know."

"But crap, Helga!" Arnold said, still sounding pretty pissed off. "I hope I don't see that guy in school for a few days, or I might punch him myself!"

"Well, I'm glad you care, Football Head," Helga said, sounding more like her usual self. "You done with that ice cream?"

"What? Yeah," said Arnold, glancing at his empty cup.

"Great, I'm finished too," Helga slid out of her seat, very gracefully in Arnold's opinion. "I'll seeya tomorrow, Football Head," she told him, paying for her shake in exact change.

Arnold was about to offer to walk Helga home, but she tore out of the ice cream place as though it was on fire.

Shaking his head, Arnold paid the rest of the bill and began to walk home. He could tell that it was going to be a long night, especially if his subconscious had anything to say about it. What _was_ that lip thing? he asked himself. And why would he get so mad at a guy who evidently shared his opinion about a certain blond girl's chest area?

……………………………………………………………………………………………....

"So are they dating?" Sheena asked, looking into the ice cream place with wide eyes.

"You never know with guys like Arnold," Rhonda said, rolling her eyes. "He takes things like being _friends_ very seriously. I mean being friends with girls, too."

"I know," Nadine said, chewing her gum benignly. "He was all 'hi Nadine' to me the other day, when I was passing by him in the hallway. I haven't talked to the guy in _months_. We don't even have one class together."

"Yeah, but it's the whole PS 118 thing, I guess," Sheena said earnestly. "We were a very close knit grade, weren't we?"

"We really were," Rhonda said, smiling. "Sleepovers, the whole lot of us in my house, every single one! We didn't have any cliques back then. I can't imagine how that even worked!"

"And parties! We tried forming a clique back then, Rhonda," Nadine said, a half-smile on her face. "Remember your 'cool party' for only the cool kids?"

"Man, that backfired," laughed Rhonda. "I remember when Helga and I used to be friends," she continued, smiling slightly. "Not great friends or anything, but she always had my back. And I had hers."

"Like when Lila first came to school, remember?" Nadine added, and they all grinned, remembering the rare show of female solidarity that Lila's appearance had evoked.

"I miss that, sometimes," Rhonda said softly. "Anywho," she continued, reverting to her normal self, "this could be the gossip of the year. The nicest guy in the grade with the meanest girl. I gotta know if they're dating or not. Especially since she's liked him since like, forever,"

Grinning at their looks of astonishment, Rhonda led her two friends past the little ice cream shop and towards her apartment building.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Getting the stuff was going to be the biggest problem, Curly decided. Using it, not so much. A little practice, and he'd be able to get the hang of how to work it in no time.

He'd have to do it secretly, too. Could he trust Eugene?

Nope, he realized. Eugene was too nice, too goody-two-shoes. Eugene would feel like an accessory. Eugene would think he was obliged to tell somebody.

And Curly couldn't have that.

No, he would have to operate alone.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"So we go in there and ask him."

"Sure!"

"And you think he's going to be perfectly okay with just _handing_ us his daughter's phone number?

"Well, if we ask properly."

"And how is that?"

"Watch and learn, novice," Lila said, flipping her red hair over her shoulder and flouncing into the fast food restaurant where Mr. Huynh was head chef.

**A/N: AND that's another update. I'm just getting really really lazy, aren't I? But I'll tell you one thing, Helga and Arnold are totally meant to be, if I'm to judge by the way their conversations simply flow out! Like in the first chapter of this story, and the one in this chapter. I don't even have to think! They always have something to say to one another!**

**Anyway. Hope you liked it, please review! And you guys who always review, thanks! You rock!**


	7. Hot and Cold

_**Hot and Cold.**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own hey Arnold, sue me. Oh, wait, that's not why I'm writing this disclaimer, I'm writing it so that you DON'T sue me. Right.**

**A/N: I don't know why I named this chapter what I named it, but it kinda makes sense to me. **

Helga waltzed into her room, unable to keep the spring from her step. What a beayooooo-tiful afternoon it had been! Her and Arnold, Arnold and her, just soakin' in the sweet vibes of good, ol' fashioned, friendship. Just_ friendship_, Helga told herself sternly, while her feet tapped out a ditty on the classy-looking wooden floor paneling Big Bob had had installed in the house a year or two ago. Just plain old nice, happy, not-a-big-deal friendship. It was just friendship, Helga attempted to convince herself, that had gotten her into such a sunny mood, just friendship that was causing her to teeter dangerously close to breaking into some perky, Hannah Montana type song.

"I'm pretty stupid, though," she said aloud as her feet salsa-ed to the lovely sound of the breeze outside her window. Helga talked to herself a lot. It was just something she did, okay? _She_ didn't think she was crazy, so it wasn't _her_ problem if anyone else (Big Bob) did!

"What did I have to go and say that plainest box thing for! I don't need Arnold to figure out I was 'Cecile' all along! But I guess he's forgotten all about that night. I didn't see a glimmer of recognition on his face."

For some reason, this caused Helga's feet to stop tapping their jig on the floor. She felt almost melancholy, and sat down on the bed with her legs dangling off the side.

"It was such a lovely night though," she said pensively. "Calf brains and eggs aside, of course. I mean, he _did_ say we'd always have Chez Paris, right?" She ran a toe horizontally across the floor. "Anyway, who cares?" she suddenly and indignantly enquired of nobody in particular. "_I_ certainly don't care! I did that closure exercise in my journal, didn't I?, I listed everything I didn't like about Arnold, and all the reasons I should give up on Arnold and everything I've ever done for Arnold without receiving anything in return, just like Dr. Bliss told me to!"

She turned quickly to her bedside table to refer to said journal, only, it wasn't there.

"Wha-? Where's my journal?"

She went over to the table and pulled out the little drawers underneath. No journal.

She hurried to her closet and felt about on the shelves inside. No journal. She looked in her schoolbag, her bathroom cabinet, her laundry basket. No journal anywhere.

"_WHERE'S MY JOURNALLLLL???" _Helga Pataki shrieked frantically.

A few streets away, sitting on his stoop, Arnold turned to Gerald, who was lazily bouncing a tennis ball off the wall.

"Did you hear something, Gerald?"

"No," said Gerald, looking bored.

……………………………………………………………………………………………....

"May I help you?" Mr. Huynh asked cheerfully, dipping his gloved hands into some dough.

"Hi, Mr. Huynh," Lila said brightly. Her hazel eyes shone with sweetness and light, and her voice was honeyed. She wanted to do this right. She'd acted confident in front of Brainy, but she really wasn't as confident as she'd sounded. Lila could do most things, but for some strange reason she still thought she wasn't good enough. It was like anorexic people wanting to get thinner and thinner; no matter how perfect she got, she never felt like it was enough. And she didn't want to mess this up in front of Brainy.

"I was wondering if you could help me." She said, perfection oozing out of every pore. "I have to do this social sciences project for school about war victims, and Arnold told me you used to live in a war zone before you came to America, and you got separated from your daughter because of it. I thought that would be a great angle for my assignment, and I was hoping I could interview you and your daughter."

"Oh, yes!" beamed Mr. Huynh. "She will be very happy! I will give you her address!" Mr. Huynh always spoke as though he were exclaiming. Lila thought it was sweet. What a nice old guy.

"Sure, Mr. Huynh," she said, deciding she'd like to have a chat with him after all. "But first, I want to interview _you_."

Pleased, Mr. Huynh began talking about his life during the war. He was a reticent man, and not too many people had the patience to listen to him speak anyway. It wasn't often that he got to talk about his life to his heart's content. His usual conversations consisted of arguments with Ernie and Oskar about bathroom privileges. He became expansive about his wartime experiences, while Lila listened, enraptured.

"It was very hard!" Mr. Huynh said, waving his cellophaned hands around while narrating. "There was no food, no water! People getting shot everywhere! It was hard to find anything to eat! I have one meal, every day! Little rice, some vegetable! That was all! I was happy I send Mai to a better place! She would not have survived!"

"Wow, that must've been really tough," said Lila, who found it all fascinating. Being perfect, she was interested in most things, and was a very good listener, too.

"It was!" agreed Mr. Huynh. "I get food from my neighbors, who get it from their neighbors! They get it from American relief workers and they share it! But there was not much food to share!"

"And what did you do for water?" asked Lila.

"I have a well outside my house!" Mr. Huynh told her. "I get water from there, and I share it with my neighbors!"

"That's ever so resourceful!" exclaimed Lila in appreciation.

"I talk to Mai," said Mr. Huynh. "I ask her how she lived, all these twenty years, was she happy?"

"What did she say?" asked Lila.

"She tell me she was well cared for!" Mr. Huynh replied. "She tell me I did a good thing when I send her here!"

"Mr. Huynh," Lila asked delicately, hoping he wouldn't offend him, "Did you ever wonder if you did the right thing, sending Mai to another country with a soldier you knew nothing about? Did you ever wonder if you made a big mistake?"

Mr. Huynh looked sadly at Lila. "Many times," he said, a faraway look coming into his eyes. "Many times."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"So you had fun?" Gerald asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah, I had a _lot_ of fun," Arnold said, flashing his trademark half-smile.

"That's cool," said Gerald, tossing his tennis ball from one hand to another. "I gotta know, though," he went on, furrowing an eyebrow. Gerald had perfected this way of raising one eyebrow separately while furrowing the other, kind of like how Jack Black did. Arnold knew girls thought it was hot, and he had caught Phoebe grinning goofily when Gerald did it more than once. "Why did you ask her out in the first place?"

"I didn't ask her _out_," said Arnold pointedly. "I just asked her if she'd like to go get some ice cream with me."

"Yeah, yeah, that's what I meant," said Gerald. "So… why?"

"You know," Arnold said. "I want to find out about that girl. Is that such a crime?"

"Hey, whoa," said Gerald, waving his hands. "Don't get all _defensive_, Arnold. I just want to know what it is with this sudden interest in her."

"I don't know," said Arnold.

"You don't _know_?"

"I don't know," Arnold sighed. "Can we drop it?"

"Sure. But you had a good time?"

"I had a _great_ time,"

"Arnold," said Gerald cautiously. "You don't… _like_ Helga, do you?"

"Can we please not go there?" Arnold asked Gerald beseechingly.

"You mean you do?"

"I mean I don't _know_, okay?" said Arnold, looking frustrated. "Look, Gerald," he said, trying to make him understand what he was talking about. "Helga bullied me for most of my elementary school life. She became almost human by the sixth grade, but in the seventh grade, she stopped talking to me completely, and I don't know why. I don't even think I noticed, back then. You know how I was, right? I just told myself it was one of those things, and moved on. Now suddenly, I got to spend some time with her, and sort of realized what I missed all those years. How smart and funny and interesting and incisive and witty and understanding and perceptive Helga Pataki is. And I don't want to miss it anymore. So I'm trying to spend as much time around her as I can, because she interests me. She gives me new perspectives on things I've taken for granted. She makes me see the stupid things I do with just one well-chosen sarcastic comment. She makes me laugh, a _lot_. And she doesn't just treat me the way everybody does, like Arnold, the official Nice Guy. She doesn't take it for granted, like my other friends, that I'm perfect and I never make any mistakes… in fact, she thinks I make a lot of mistakes. All this time I've spent hanging out with her was like this fresh wind that was blowing in my face. You know how stagnant my life had gotten, Gerald? You know how _boring_? And all this time, this whirlwind of wider perspectives and different ideas, this cynical, quirky, insightful girl was right there in my class, in my neighborhood, and I didn't notice. I feel so stupid, Gerald. Helga deserves to be noticed. Helga deserves _more_ than to be noticed, actually."

"Arnold, brother…" said Gerald, his eyes having gone very wide during this discourse.

"Crap," said Arnold, as the realization hit him, too. "I like her, don't I?"

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"_I guess Dr. Bliss thought this would be a good way to get rid of this relapse of my Arnold obsession. Out of all the lists she told me to make, this is the only one I can really see the point of. I mean the one about the things I dislike about Arnold… that was just hard. I mean, I stewed on that list for like a week, and I got only four points. How annoying is that?_

_Then there was the one about the reasons I should give up on him. I could think of only one. There _is_ only one. That Arnold will never like me back, period. There's a lot of reasons why he won't like me back, for example the fact that I can never be quiet and sophisticated and dainty and pretty, and the fact that I made a large section of his childhood hell - poor kid must still be picking spitballs out of his hair – bit the fact remains, he will never like me back, whatever the reason._

_But I think I have a pretty long list of thankless deeds I have done for him, for which I have received naught but abuse in return. Actually, that's crap, but the sentence sounds nice. Arnold has never really been mean to me. Even if all he did was lose his temper and retaliate, he always made sure he called and apologized. And I yelled at him never to call me again. Gosh, come to think of it, _he's_ the one who received naught but abuse in return. God, I was a scary kid. I'd hate to meet me at nine._

_THINGS I HAVE DONE FOR ARNOLD WITHOUT RECEIVING ANYTHING IN RETURN:_

_1. What could I possibly put into slot number one? Let's see. After considering a lot of worthy competitors, the panel has unanimously chosen the selfless giving away of a certain pair of Nancy Spumoni snowboots, a Christmas present for which my mother actually stood in line for eighteen hours to get. Not only was this the giving up of a luxury that so many girls my age would have coveted had I kept them, this was the giving away of a present of sentimental value, as it is extremely rare that my parents do things like this for me. Due to this, the giving away of the Nancy Spumoni snowboots so that Arnold did not lose his belief in the magic of Christmas stands first in the pecking order of selfless things I have done for Arnold._

_Sheesh. I spoil the boy. No wonder he has no sense of reality whatsoever."_

Brainy closed the journal, the jiggling of the bus he was sitting in was making it too hard to read. But he'd already read this entry at least twice. Below what he'd just read were the details of why she had given up the snowboots, which is where he and Lila had discovered the truth about how Mai Huynh found her father. Everybody in their class knew the story of the Christmas Angel, but nobody knew that that angel had been Helga. At least nobody but himself and Lila Sawyer. He was glad he was over Helga. It was stupid to have feelings for somebody this madly and irrevocably in love with somebody else. Some part of him would probably always love her, but he was over her. In fact he was setting her up with the very boy he had envied and thought was horrifically dense ever since he was three. If that wasn't being over a girl, he didn't know what was.

Of course, he could never stop being fond of Helga. She was like a favorite book character to him. He was very interested in the outcome of the story, and he'd like it if she didn't die during the course of it. He had a slight crush on her, but knew he couldn't have her for obvious reasons, and so when he wasn't reading the book, he had his sights set on something real, something attainable. And he knew that, if he looked hard enough, he'd find the perfect girl sitting right next to him, and when he did find her, he wouldn't let her go, he knew that for sure.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Okay, man," said Gerald, sitting up. "Are you sure about this?"

"I guess," said Arnold. "When you like someone, you don't really have to think about it, do you? I mean, if you do, then maybe you don't really like her. Maybe you're just _considering_ liking her."

"But sometimes, you're confused," said Gerald wisely. "And it's okay to be confused, Arnold. Especially if it's someone whom you've known for a long time, and never saw yourself having feelings for."

"I don't think I'm confused," said Arnold.

"You wanna take the test?" asked Gerald.

"The test?" Arnold enquired.

"Justasec," Gerald told him. "HEY, SID!" he yelled in the direction of Gerald Field. Sid hurried up, catcher's mitt in hand.

"Yeah, Gerald?"

"Can you just introduce the test for me, please?"

"Sure." Sid turned to Arnold, appraising him with a serious face. "The test," he began, "is a foolproof series of questions passed down from teen generation to teen generation. It began over fifty years ago, in this very neighborhood, when a teen named Phil wanted to figure out whether or not he liked this girl called Gertie."

"Hey –" interjected Arnold, but was shushed by Gerald as Sid continued.

"The questions were compiled by his friends, and have been added to, taken away from and otherwise modified year after year, until this year, where the new and improved version will be presented to you by our very own Gerald."

"Thank you Sid," Gerald took over smoothly. Sid grinned and nodded, and went back down to the field.

"Those were my grandparents!" Arnold felt compelled to exclaim.

"That's right, Arnold," said Gerald, smiling. "I'm going to ask you some questions now, okay? All you gotta do is answer 'yes' or 'no'."

"Okay," said Arnold, looking bemused.

"Okay. When you see Helga, do you feel happy?"

"Yes."

"Does she make you want to be a better person?"

"Well," said Arnold, considering, "She makes me want to be more, if you understand what I mean. She makes me want to try new things and learn more about myself. She –"

"Uh, uh, uh, Arnold," admonished Gerald. Just answer 'yes' or 'no'."

"Well, then yes."

"Does her smile make you feel warm inside?"

"What kind of corny –"

"Arnold!"

"I can't answer a stupid question like that, okay?"

"You're blushing."

"I am _not_ blushing!"

"Face it Arnold," said Gerald, laughing. "I don't think I even have to complete the whole list of questions! You definitely like Helga Pataki."

"I told you," sighed Arnold, while Gerald shook his head.

……………………………………………………………………………………………....

In the elevator, alone with Brainy, Lila contemplated the extent to which she wanted to launch herself at him and kiss his brains out. He stood there, leaning on the wall, his lanky body and long limbs complementing his dark, curly hair. He was so _serious_, thought Lila. So despondent. And so painfully _hot_.

She wondered if she ought to be surprised that she had fallen so deeply in love with him. After all, he was far from perfect. He wasn't popular, or stylish (like right now, he was wearing a mustard colored sweatervest. If Rhonda were here, she would have _cried_). He wasn't influential or rich, or even athletic. He didn't even get the best grades in the class.

But maybe that's why she loved him.

Lila loved the way Brainy cared about everything he did, from his debating to the way he took care of his pet tortoises. She loved his adorably low level of self-confidence, the very way he felt he was not good enough made him good enough for her. She loved how he wasn't like the obnoxious guys who kept asking her out, even though they didn't know her at all. The boys who thought she would date them just because they looked good together. The morons who thought she would like them just because they were popular.

She loved how he knew when to give up. How he accepted his lot in life without question. How he didn't feel the need to pretend to be anything other that what he was, and how he didn't believe in changing for others.

So maybe he wasn't what the rest of the world would define as perfect, but, Lila argued, he seemed perfect to her. And maybe, sometimes, that was all that really mattered, wasn't it? After all, what was perfection but a defense mechanism? At least, that's what it seemed like to her, and she should know.

**A/N: Ah, finally. I'm rather pleased with this chapter. I'd like to know what you thought (hint: review!) And, by the way, nobody answered when I asked this in the last chapter. WHY does Harold call Helga "Madam Fortress Mommy"??? Is it one of those things nobody knows?? Coz it's eating me up inside. I googled it, but got rather strange results, so, um. Yeah. [Right, thanks everybody who answered my question, and everybody else, you don't have to answer it now, I already got like three replies :) just review the chapter, okay?]**

**PS. Don't you love how 'googled' is now a verb? I love language.**

**Anons: **

**Gaby – Elliot is totally made up. But he is beautifully annoying, no? I had so much fun with him. You may see him again. I don't know, though.**

**Loki-Jade – If you really want to read good Hey Arnold fanfics, you'll find a lot of awesome ones in my favourites list. And, about the dialogue, well, I didn't want to change too much. I mean, it's still the same people, right! And if you're talking about Lila, well, I can't help it. It's just ever so much fun!**


	8. Contraband

_Contraband._

**Disclaimer: Screw this, I'm waaaay too tired.**

**A/N: Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah. Blah. Don't hate the chapter. **

"Hey, guys," said Mai Huynh, smiling at Lila and Brainy. "Come on in, come on in…" she ushered them into her apartment, waving her hand, which had a cigarette tucked between two fingers, towards the living room. It wasn't the neatest place in the world, but it was cute. "Sorry about the mess," Mai said, her voice rueful. "My roommate had a few friends over last night."

Lila nodded, and smiled politely.

"You guys don't mind if I…" said Mai, holding up her cigarette.

"Normally, I wouldn't," Lila said politely. "But my friend here is asthmatic, and I don't think…"

"Oh, okay, no problem," said Mai, smiling easily and putting out her cigarette in an ashtray on the table. "What is it you guys wanted to talk to me about?" she said, clasping her hands together on her knees.

She was a pretty, petite Asian woman in her twenties, with straight, shiny black hair pulled into a messy knot at the back of her head. She was wearing skinny jeans with a yellow vest, and Lila liked her on sight.

"Well, I'm doing this project for school," began Lila, "About war victims and survivors, and I wanted to ask about your experience, growing up away from home, not knowing who your parents were, all that stuff, because I thought you'd be the perfect person to give me a firsthand account…"

"Oh, yeah, sure. I'd love to," said Mai, nodding. "What do you wanna know about? Just go ahead and ask me any questions you need answered."

"Okay," said Lila, smiling gratefully. Her interest in knowing Mai's story almost made her forget the real reason she had come, which was to convince Mai to tell Arnold who it was who had actually found her. "Okay, so. First question: where did you grow up?"

"Okay," said Mai, curling up on the couch and beginning her tale, "I was put in a foster home, like, the second I got here. I don't know who I lived with, I wasn't with them for very long. Apparently they got pregnant not long after I arrived, and thought it might be difficult to manage, so they sent me to another foster home. I remember snatches of different foster homes, but nothing concrete. Like, at this one place, this lady had this beautiful candlestand. It was bronze, and shaped like a tree, with lots of intricate detailing. I used to be fascinated by it, but I don't remember anything else about living in that place. Finally, when I was nearly six, I was adopted by the Dawsons. They already had six kids, four of whom were adopted, and I was the seventh in the happy family. In fact, they actually adopted one other kid after me, my little sister Jayne."

"Wow," said Lila. "Were they nice?"

"They're amazing people," said Mai, smiling. "Dad – I mean, Mr. Dawson, not my real dad – has a small paper factory, and Mom runs a small

chain of bookstores. That was enough to get us by, though we never lived in luxury. But I really can't complain." She added. "We were a close knit bunch. When I had ballet recitals back in school, my family never missed a single one. And every few weeks we'd take off for a movie, and make so much noise in the theatre that people yelled at us!"

"That sounds so nice!" said Lila, beaming. "What a fun family to grow up with, Mai!"

"Yeah, about that," said Mai. "You should call me Drea. That's the name I grew up with before I found Father – my real father, I mean."

"Really?" said Lila, sounding surprised.

"Yeah, well, not many people knew my name when they brought me here, right?" said Mai, smiling at Lila. "I was just this kid the rescue workers brought back, one in like a thousand. So my first family registered me as Andrea, and then Mom – Mrs. Dawson – shortened it to Drea, coz that's what everyone always called me, and Andrea is too big a name for such a tiny girl anyway. My legal name is actually Drea Dawson."

"That's really interesting!" said Lila. "I never thought about that. I've been thinking of you as Mai Huynh all along, and now you're Drea Dawson. It's ever so interesting!"

"I know," said Mai, laughing. "It's more than just interesting to me. I'm the one it happened to!"

"So, what was it like when you met your real father?" Lila asked, wrapped up in the story completely.

"It was really nice!" said Mai, or Drea, smiling. "I mean… it was surreal, you know. But he's such a sweet guy. And even though I didn't really know him at all when we first met, there were things… like, we both laugh the same way. And his front teeth overlap slightly, just like mine. But it's really good knowing you have a real father, even if the nicest family in the world raised you.

"I understand," said Lila, and then finally remembered her purpose. "How exactly did you find your father, Mai? Um, Drea, I mean?"

"Well, it was Christmas, and I was at my parents' place, and we were done opening the presents. It was loud, and happy, and crazy, like it always is when my family gets together. Then suddenly the doorbell rings and a skinny blonde girl comes in, and starts asking for me. So I go talk to her, and she explains how she searched for me under my actual name with somebody from city hall, and got led to my first foster home, which is where they changed my name to Andrea. Apparently, the city hall guy gave up after a while and Helga – that's the girl – tracked me down to my current home, and that's how she found me. And then she told me she knew my real father.

In a house full of adopted kids, news like this is always exciting, so all of us jumped into Mom's beat up old truck and zoomed over to Hillwood, and the next thing I knew, I was meeting father!"

"Wow," said Lila, "But, hey. I know Helga, and she's never told me about any of this! In fact, I don't think she ever got any credit for re-uniting you with your father!"

"Yeah," said Drea, looking thoughtful. "She said it was her Christmas present for Arnold. And she begged me never to tell, so I didn't." She looked at Lila. "Do you think I should have?"

Lila tilted her head slightly in thought. "Actually, no. I think it's a good thing you didn't. But maybe it's time that you did."

Drea nodded understandingly. "She still loves him, huh?"

"Yeah," Lila told her. "And I think the feeling may be reciprocated this time."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Hello?"

"Hello, can I speak to Helga?"

"Sure, sure. Who's callin'?"

"It's Arnold."

"Okay. HEY OLGA!"

"It's HELGA, _Dad_."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. There's a phonecall for ya. Some… Arlow somebody."

"ARNOLD?"

Helga picked up the phone in her bedroom. Her heart was beating frantically, though it had no business to. Why was Arnold calling? They'd just met like a couple hours ago! Did she forget something at the ice cream place? What was up?

"Hello?" she said, keeping her voice as steady as she could.

"Hey, Helga," said Arnold's voice over the phone, sounding golden and gravelly and satisfying as a chocolate donut with sprinkles.

"Hey," said Helga, willing herself not to lose control of her voice, which had the tendency of getting higher and higher in situations like this. "What's up, bucko?"

"Nothing," said Arnold, his voice sounding – wait. Was his voice actually sounding a little bit nervous? "I, um, I have this poetry assignment. I was reading up background on Robert Frost, and I thought you'd have read some, so, um, I wanted to know what you thought of his poetry?"

What? Thought Helga, bewildered. Poetry? Was Arnold feeling all right?

"Frost?" she said, genuinely bewildered. "Well, if you're talking about the one with the roads –"

"Okay, I lied," Arnold said, his voice coming out in a rush. "I, uh, I –"

"Yes?" Helga asked, feeling more confused than ever.

"I – never mind. Sorry." Helga heard another sigh, and then he hung up. Holding the phone away from her ear, Helga looked at it. What the heck was _that_? she wondered, staring at the phone as though it knew, and would let her in on the secret.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"_Damn_it!" said Arnold, letting go of the phone as though it had stung him. "Gerald, this is _all_ your fault."

"What?" said Gerald, shaking with laughter.

"I used to be perfectly FINE with talking to Helga until you made me realize I like her! Damnit, damnit, _damnit_!"

"Look, man," said Gerald, grinning broadly. "If you could talk to Helga before, you can do it now. It's _all in the head_, brother!"

"Yeah, but, last time it was 'hey Helga, wanna hang out after school?' and NOW it's 'hey Helga, wanna go an a DATE with me on Friday?'!!" wailed Arnold.

"Saturday," reminded Gerald. "Friday's Iggy's party, remember?"

"Oh, right!" said Arnold. "Wait. Are people bringing dates to Iggy's party?"

"It's _Iggy_, man, not Rhonda. You can do what the hell you like at Iggy's parties, you know that." Gerald shook his head. "Rhonda's the one who INSISTS on dates. And dancing. There are no rules at the House of Ig."

"The House of Ig?" said Arnold, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah. He invented it. He thinks it makes him sound cool and terrifying."

"Only Iggy would even _try_ to call his party the House of Ig."

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"That enough, Mr. Matthews?" said Holden Mancini, waving his hand over two small barrels in front of him.

"How many, erm, litres is that?" said a hissing voice with a British accent, that emanated from somewhere behind a shaggy black beard and large reflective sunglasses.

Sheesh, thought Holden. It's just a goddamn _kid_. I'm going to kill Barry. He never told me it was just a goddamn _kid_.

"I'm afraid I don't know the exact, Mr. Matthews." He said, peering at the figure suspiciously. "We measure the large amounts in our stock, but for small amounts we don't bother. This is just about a cupful off the top of each of our barrels. That way it doesn't make a difference to the barrels we gotta account for, but a cup from each of them is a whole barrel and a half, see? Nothing on the papers."

There was a reason Holden was the spokesperson for the little side outfit his boss carried out. He was a good speaker. His mother was a well read woman, who had in fact named Holden after one of her favourite fictional characters (his father, of course, had been in jail for seventeen years now). Holden was the most educated among the people he kept company with. His pals called him 'Shakespeare' when they were drunk.

"Goooood," said 'Mr. Matthews', drawing out the word in his hissing and undoubtedly fake British accent. He can't be more than fifteen, thought Holden. Barry really is an idiot.

"I believe I owe you some… ah… _dough_." continued the kid, pulling out a roll of money from inside his trench coat. Of _course_ he was wearing a trench coat.

At least the kid can pay up, thought Holden, holding out his hand for the roll of bills. Unfolding it, he counted the money carefully. It was the right amount. Good. He didn't want to have Razza throw a fit when he got back because he was a few dollars short or anything. Slipping the roll into his own pocket, he tipped his hat to the kid.

"Have a good day, Mr. Matthews."

"Yes, yes," said the kid, looking at the barrels as though he was wondering how to carry them away.

"You, uh, roll 'em," offered Holden. When the kid continued to look stymied, he proceeded to give him a demonstration.

"Thanks," said the kid, forgetting to sound both hissy _and_ British.

"Sure," said Holden. "So what's your first name, Mr. Matthews?" he asked, just to see how he would react. The kid's fake beard quivered with his reply.

"Uh, Matt," the kid said. "Matt Matthews." He began to hasten towards the other direction, rolling the barrels over the grass.

"Matt Matthews," Holden smirked to himself. "I wonder what a kid wants with a barrel and a half of gasoline." Fingering the roll in his pocket, he started walking away.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

The next morning, Helga's alarm clock woke her with a start after a particularly tumultuous dream. Reaching out and grabbing the telephone next to her bed, she called Phoebe.

"Hello?" said a bright voice. Phoebe generally awoke about an hour earlier that Helga. Due to all of Phoebe's extra-curriculars, she usually never had time to pursue her other interests after school, so she had made it a habit to wake up an hour early and work on her flash animation projects in the peace of the dawn hours. She generally made short comedic sequences which she would upload onto YouTube. Sometimes she made campaign videos for Rhonda, who ran for class president every year.

"Hey, Phoebs? It's me," said Helga.

"Oh, good morning, Helga. How come you're calling me so early? Are we skipping out on school again? Because I kinda have this Advanced Chem class I _really_ don't wanna miss. We're going to debate the existence of Quarks and I'm all prepared –"

"No, Phoebe, we are not going to skip out on school," said Helga exasperatedly. "Because that was _one time_, you _know_ I never usually ask you to skip with me! I'm sorry you missed the pop quiz on Saturn's moons. I said I'd make it up to you!"

"Well, what is it then?" asked Phoebe curiously.

"I just had a freaky dream," Helga said, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "About _Ice Cream_."

"Oh _God_, Helga, when are you gonna stop referring to him as Ice Cream?"

"I don't _know_! It's embarrassing talking about my ex-feelings for him, okay?"

"Okay, okay," sighed Phoebe, giving up yet again. She was used to Helga's elaborate denial vocabulary, so the phrase ex-feelings did not bother her. "Go on, tell me about the dream."

"Well, it started with me and Brainy. We were on a see-saw."

"Wha – pardon?" said Phoebe disbelievingly. "A what?"

"A see-saw," said Helga impatiently. "You know. Kids sit on them in parks. Also known as teeter-totter."

"Gotcha. Go ahead." said Phoebe. "You and Brainy on a see-saw."

"Yeah, so then Brainy says 'You are not alone, Helga' in this hollow voice," continued Helga quickly. "So I get freaked out, right? So I jump off the see-saw, and run towards a bunch of trees at the end of the park. And when I get through them, I see Arnold. He smiles and says 'I _knew_ you weren't evil, Helga,' and comes towards me. But I freeze and he gets closer and closer, and the suddenly I notice that I have a red braid hanging at my shoulder. So I examine it, and it turns out I have red hair. That's when Arnold says, 'Lila, I _like_ you like you,' and I realize that I am, in fact, Lila. And I scream, and then Brainy sneaks up from behind me, and then the real Helga also appears and they begin to corner me and… then I woke up."

"OoooohKAY," said Phoebe, suppressing a laugh.

"What do you think it means?" Helga asked eagerly.

"It means you had a freaky dream and should stop eating so much dinner because you tend to have restless nights when your stomach is too full?"

"Phoebs, ya know what Dr. Bliss said to me, right?" Helga asked, a note of excitement entering her voice. The tone was reminiscent of how Einstein must have sounded when he discovered relativity. Helga sounded as though she'd just decoded the Dead Sea Scrolls. "She said I should date other people. And _then_ she suggested Brainy!"

"Oh no, Helga," said Phoebe, looking up from her computer in alarm. "You are not going to go after Brainy now. No way in heck am I letting you do that.

"What?" said Helga, sounding injured. "He used to like me, right? Maybe he still does!"

"But you'll be USING the poor guy to get over Arnold!" said Phoebe, scandalized. "You don't have any feelings for him whatsoever!"

"I could get feelings," said Helga with a shrug.

"Helga!" Phoebe admonished. "I know you lack a massive deal in the ethics department, but come on! You can't just use Brainy like that!"

"Why not?" asked Helga, genuinely surprised.

"Look at it this way," said Phoebe grimly. "What if Arnold dates you to get over Lila?"

"Ouch," said Helga. "I see."

"Good."

"But Phoebs, I'm not doing this to get over Arnold," said Helga suddenly. "Coz, remember, I already AM over him! I'm doing this to get a life. And I might just really start liking the Brainster, who knows?"

"Helga…" said Phoebe warningly.

"Come on, Phoebs. Lemme just see if he still even likes me!"

"Fine." Phoebe shut her computer down, still annoyed. "Go ahead. Let's see how this circus turns out."

"I know you'd come around!" smiling brightly, Helga hung up the phone.

A few blocks away, a potato-powered alarm clock woke a certain football-headed teenager , who opened his eyes and gazed dreamily out of the skylight above him, thinking about the very smile Helga now wore, and wondering why he hadn't seen it around before.

A few houses away, a wiry boy nervously examined the contents of two barrels that he had hidden in a corner his basement.

Downtown, a pretty Asian woman in a denim skirt and cream tank top stared at her collection of shoes, wondering which ones to wear while visiting her father.

**AAAAAAAAAAND FINALLY!!!!!!!! *pant* I think I may DIE *pant* Those of you familiar with the International Baccalaureate may understand where I'm coming from *pant* but the rest of you… be glad you DON'T KNOW WHAT IT IS!!! *pant*. Too….. tired….. no more authornote….. *collapses*. Oh, and *looks up weakly* review…! *Faints*.**


	9. Angel

_Angel._

**Disclaimer: Still not mine.**

**A/N: I'm back baby doll! Okay, this is going to be a somewhat feelingey chapter because I'm doing college all the way here, in the US of A, and my boyfriend is back home in India, and I MISS him!... so if it seems a bit heavy on the "love" side of things… that's just where I am right now. I still hope it turned out decent, I think it's pretty okay. **

"Hey, Helga!" called Arnold, catching sight of the object of his affections in the hallway on the way to Gym class. He winced when he heard the excitement in his voice. Could he BE more obvious?

"Oh. Football Head. Hey," said Helga. Arnold couldn't help but notice the lack of enthusiasm in _her_ voice.

"Hi," he said, catching up with her. "What's up?"

"The usual," said Helga, not looking at him.

"Oh…" said Arnold, put off a little by her disinterest. "Hey," he said, a sudden thought striking him. "Are you okay? You haven't had a, a fight with your parents or something, right?"

"What?" said Helga, finally looking at him. "What? No! Haha, no, not even a little bit. Oh, look, there's Elliot! Seeya later, Arnoldo."

Without any further ado, Helga strode over to the other side of the hallway where some extremely cheerful kid was smiling at a poster of Demi Lovato, taped to the inside of his locker. Arnold felt a little disoriented for a second. Had life always been this _weird?_

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………_._

Helga didn't glance back as she moved swiftly across to where Elliot Ackley was standing, humming to himself.

"Hey, Elliot!" she said, mustering up as much enthusiasm as she could while wondering what was up with the universe that made her leave ARNOLD to come talk to THIS guy. "How's it going with the, um, Goosebumps?" Elliot grinned at her toothily.

"Helga! It's so good to see you! Where have you been?"

"Around," sighed Helga. "How about you?"

"Oh, I've been busy… tests and stuff. Also, I'm planning to audition for the school musical this year… so I've been practicing for that…"

"The musical?" said Helga, interested. "Do you know Eugene Horowitz?"

"Yeah!" said Elliot, raising his eyebrows. "Is he a friend of yours?"

"We go way back," said Helga.

"That's cool," said Elliot, nodding. "Eugene's a very talented kid. Although his voice has been in transition lately… I don't know if he'll get a part…"

Helga looked over her shoulder surreptitiously. Arnold had left.

"It's been great talking to ya, Ackley," she said, slapping his back boisterously. "I'll see you around, okay kid?" Flashing him a quick grin, she turned around and walked away.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

"Iggy's party is tonight," said Lila from the corner of her mouth, looking to make sure Senora Espinosa wasn't looking their way.

"I know," said Brainy quietly.

"Are you going to go?"

"Actually, I'm surprised that he invited me at all,"

"Why? You've been friends since grade school!"

"Sure, but ever since we've started high school… well, you know how people get."

"How DO people get?" enquired Lila.

"You know. He has all these cool new friends to hang out with now. Jerome and Brad and all those guys. Iggy's _popular_." Brainy made a face that suggested he didn't consider popularity a very positive thing.

"Iggy was always ever so popular, Brainy," said Lila, keeping her eyes on Senora Espinosa. "I remember he got voted 'coolest kid in class' at Rhonda's 'Vote-For' party in the sixth grade."

"'Vote-For' party?" Brainy sounded amused in his cynical Brainy way. "What in the world is that?"

"Don't you remember, Rhonda was running for class president and threw the 'Vote-For' party in honor of that?" said Lily, turning towards Brainy. "We had to vote people for a bunch of titles… 'Prettiest', 'Coolest', 'Toughest'… let's see… oh yeah, 'Funniest', 'Smartest', there were a whole bunch, and whoever won had to wear a sash with the title on it, like Miss America or something –"

"_Senorita! Callate, por favor_!" shouted Senora Espinosa, making both of them jump.

"Anyway," hissed Brainy when she looked away and resumed teaching, "I've never been invited to any of Rhonda's parties."

"What?" Lila whispered back. "Are you kidding?"

"Nope," said Brainy, sounding more amused than ever. "It may surprise you, little miss perfect, but I've never actually been part of the It Crowd."

"But if you and Iggy were friends, and Iggy was always popular –"

" – then maybe that's why Iggy found himself some new friends."

"Brainy!" said Lila, shocked. "Why would you say something like that?"

"Because it's true," Brainy shrugged.

"I'm oh so certain it is NOT true!"

"Think about it."

That kept Lila quiet for a little while, much to Brainy's relief. While he didn't really give a crap about the ins and outs of high school politics, it wasn't a lot of fun for him to discuss his own unpopularity. Brainy never thought of himself as the sort of person who could be content living that sort of life. He wanted recognition, glory – but he didn't want the cheap high school sort, the sort that could be bought with a flashy car – not that he was allowed to have a driving license yet – and a hot girlfriend. He wanted the real thing. He wanted to be recognized and lauded for the person that he was, not the person that he could pretend to be if he so wished. Thus, he was willing to wait for his time to come, and he was confident it would. Until then, he was content to wait for the people around him to grow up. All he needed to tide him along were his spot on the debating team and his best friend.

It was strange even now, thinking about the fact that Lila and he were, in fact, best friends. A couple of months ago, he would have scoffed at the idea. It had been Lila, all Lila, that had led them to become as close as they were now. Brainy didn't know yet why she had grabbed him after Algebra one day and decided that they would become homework buddies. He couldn't believe, the day they got together to do their homework, that they would actually become friends, that she would actually laugh at his jokes and tell him her secrets. He had never felt like he mattered before, never expected to _like_ himself and want to do better for himself, before Lila came along and showed him who he was by asking for his opinion and understanding his sense of humor. As she helped him muster up some confidence in himself, she became a sort of angel in his eyes. She was, in many ways, his savior, but instead of patronizing him, she treated him as an equal, as though he was her savior as much as she was his. It was easy, terribly easy, for Brainy to fall in love with her, and he did.

Looking at Lila, he wondered how stupid a guy she hung out with so much would have to be, _not_ to be in love with her. She was so beautiful, and so smart, but not only that, she was such a great _person_, always kind, and with an amazing sense of humor. He smiled wryly to himself when he thought of the irony of their situation: Lila, Arnold's old flame, and Brainy, who had been in love with Helga for years, teaming up to try to get the two of them together. Did that mean that Lila and Brainy were meant for each other too, or was that wishful thinking on his part? Lila could never feel the same way about him… could she?

Lila turned back to look at him.

"How come you're not more bitter, if you think Iggy stopped hanging out with you because you're less popular than he is? If it were me, I'm certain I'd be hopping mad!"

"Oh I don't need those guys, or anybody else!" said Brainy grandly, "I got you, don't I?"

Lila smiled at him, and it was enough to make Brainy hold on to the hope that someday he'd be able to tell her how he felt, and she WOULDN'T be revolted. The smile he returned to her was, for once, devoid of any of his usual cynicism.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

At lunch, Helga grabbed her tray and looked around the cafeteria. Brainy, Brainy, Brainy, Brainy… hah! There he was. With a purposeful jump to her step, she approached his table. It had four chairs around it, but as far as she could see, he was the only one sitting there.

"Hi!" she said brightly. "Mind if I sit here today?"

Brainy looked at her as if she had just grown two extra noses.

"What?" he said intelligently.

"I said, can I sit here?" Helga nodded towards one of the chairs, wondering how desperate she was to not fall back in love with Arnold to have stooped this low. Brainy looked at the seat. Then he looked at her.

"You want to sit here?" he asked.

"Yup!" said Helga, fighting to keep the smile on her face. She had forgotten exactly how exasperating Brainy could be.

"For lunch?" he asked her, looking extremely incredulous. "Why?"

"Why not?" asked Helga. "It's a free country, I can have lunch with an old friend if I want to – if you don't mind, that is."

"Well… sure," Brainy said doubtfully. "Lila's going to be here in a minute."

"Lila?" asked Helga, wondering what Lila had to do with anything.

"We eat lunch together," explained Brainy.

"You do?" asked Helga, surprised. Brainy and Lila had never been friends, as far as she could remember.

"Yeah," Brainy went a little pink as he said it.

No…

No, no, NO. He couldn't be. He _couldn't_ be in love with Lila.

Brainy looked down and played with his food a little bit.

Oh, come ON, thought Helga. This couldn't be happening. Lila couldn't be standing between her and the man she wanted AGAIN. This kind of stuff only happened in elementary school, for crying out loud!

"Oh hi, Helga!" said an obnoxiously perky voice, as in a flash of red hair, Lila sat down beside Brainy. He looked up at her and Helga could just SEE the nauseating look of abject adoration on his face. Why was Lila such an alluring pain in the ASS? There went her plan to pursue Brainy.

"Hi, Lila," she said, pretending not to be gagging at the disgusting sight before her. "How are you?"

"I'm good," Lila said, smearing butter on a breadstick. "How are you doing?"

"Great!" said Helga with mock enthusiasm. She supposed Lila would go back to her old games – telling Brainy that she liked him, but didn't LIKE him like him. Wouldn't that be just typical! Hurray for old times! NOT.

But wait – perhaps that wasn't the case this time. Lila had just buttered two breadsticks for Brainy and was proceeding to straighten the collar of his shirt, which was sticking out of his sky-blue sweatervest (that boy had no sense of fashion whatsoever). Maybe she – well, you could blow Helga down with a feather – maybe Lila liked Brainy back! It seemed increasingly likely – she was now laughing raucously at one of Brainy's weird, sardonic comments that Helga hadn't realized was meant to be a joke at all, he had said it so dryly. While laughing, Lila touched Brainy's arm for a while, but instead of appearing flirtatious, the gesture seemed oddly intimate. Maybe they were already dating?

"Hey, you guys," said Helga, furrowing her brow and pointing at them, "are you, like, together or something?"

Brainy and Lila looked at each other, Brainy looking absolutely mortified while Lila's skin burned scarlet, to match her hair.

"Wh – what?" said Lila shakily, as, at the same time, Brainy said: "Together? Us?"

"Okay, okay," said Helga, deciding to cut them a break. If they weren't together yet, they would be soon, anyway. "Sorry. You guys would look good together though." In the meantime, she needed to formulate a new Forget-About-Arnold game plan.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

After school, Arnold walked home dejectedly. Helga had hardly even given him the time of day today. He'd thought he had come so close to breaking through her walls, but today she seemed to have put them all back up. It hadn't felt good, when Helga had brushed him off in the hallway. It had felt like rejection. It had felt the same as when he had been turned down by all his former crushes, except a lot worse. And Arnold knew that this time felt worse because this wasn't just a crush. This was closer to the real thing, whatever that was supposed to be. And that realization just made the rejection all the more awful.

Unhappily, he climbed up his stoop and pushed open the door to the boarding house, ignoring the barrage of random animals that came pouring out. Maybe he'd go up to his room and lie down on his couch for a while, listening to some jazz music. He didn't feel like thinking for a while. He hoped his grandparents wouldn't come upstairs and annoy him today, he wasn't in the mood to entertain their whims right now. Shaking his head to himself wryly, he sighed. Clearly, he had it pretty bad for this girl, and it had only been a matter of days.

As he walked into the house, he heard voices coming from the living room. He slipped past quietly, hoping his grandparents would notice, and hurried up into his bedroom.

Arnold's bedroom was a haven. It had everything a guy could need, plus a remote to control it all, and Arnold lay thankfully on the couch as he flipped radio stations, hoping to find the dulcet tones of Dino Spumoni somewhere. Soon, he gave up and listened to whatever was playing. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply.

He was at once engulfed by images of Helga. Helga walking away from him that morning, Helga making a face while she called him Football Head, Helga laughing at him, Helga teasing him, Helga when her face got all earnest, and she tried to impart wisdom while still trying to look non-committal about it… and his memory delved further back in time… Helga in the seventh grade when she sat alone at lunch the whole year because Phoebe had a different lunch period, and she had stopped asserting herself and regressed into someone who lurked in the background… Helga going red in the sixth grade because their English teacher let slip that the beautiful poem she had read aloud, that was supposed to be anonymous, was Helga's work… Arnold had known, even back then, that there was someone sensitive hidden under Helga's rough persona, but stupidly, he had not tried to find that person… if only he had, thought Arnold, cursing himself, he would have been a lot closer to getting under her shell than he was now. His mind took him even further back… Helga in the fifth grade, back when everybody from elementary still hung out together, playing baseball in Gerald Field, in the fourth grade, when they spent Thanksgiving together and used to be somewhat like friends… Helga playing Juliet in the class play, and kissing him on the mouth for what felt like several minutes… he chuckled dryly to himself. Little had he known that in a few short years he was going to wish he could do the same thing again, but without an audience this time, or costumes for that matter. Suddenly, he was jolted by another memory, one he had almost forgotten. A blonde girl sitting in front of him, her hair down, saying something he could have sworn he had heard again very recently…

There was a sharp knock on the door. Groaning, Arnold got up and said "come in."

Creaking, the door opened slowly to reveal Mr. Huynh's daughter, Drea. Arnold was very well acquainted with her, and was cheered at the sight of her on the threshold of his room.

"Drea! Hi! Come on in!" he said, extremely glad of the distraction.

"Hi, Arnold," she said, smiling at him, revealing her slightly overlapping front teeth. "It's so good to see you."

"How's it going, Drea?" asked Arnold. "Your boss still a jerk?" Drea worked at a small publishing company, and Arnold's family had been treated to several tales of her nightmare boss.

"Yeah, still the same," she said, grinning. "Say, Arnold. Do you have a minute? I need to talk to you about something."

"Sure," said Arnold, curiously. "What about?"

"Well, it's not a new thing," said Drea. "Um, I haven't told you this before, but the other day one of your friends came over and convinced me to tell you, so here I am."

"Which one of my friends? Tell me what?" said Arnold.

"How I really turned up that Christmas," said Drea.

"What do you mean? I know that story," said Arnold, not understanding what this was about. "You got a call from city hall. Mr. Bailey discovered he had a heart after all."

"No, Arnold, that wasn't the actual story," said Drea. "Remember you told me that day that you must have had a Christmas angel looking out for you? Well, there kind of was one."

"What?" said Arnold, getting more confused by the minute. "Look, just, just go ahead and tell me what you came to tell me, would you?"

"Well, on that day, I didn't receive a call. I was visited by a scrawny looking little blonde girl who had given up the Nancy Spumoni boots she received for Christmas so that Bailey would look me up. She went with him to my first foster home, tracked me down from there, didn't give up when Bailey went home, finally found me, and brought me here. She said she didn't want you to stop believing in miracles, because if you didn't, nobody would. And she begged and begged me not to tell you, so I didn't. Until now, when another of your friends came to me and told me it was time to let you know."

"What was her name?" whispered Arnold, moved beyond words by Drea's narrative.

"Helga Pataki," said Drea, and watched with contentment as Arnold's eyes lit up, confident that she had done the right thing.

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Helga slipped into her fifth outfit, hating the way she looked. Anything girlier than a denim skirt and T-shirt, and Helga was out of her comfort zone. But she wanted to use tonight to forget about her Arnold problems, and so she decided to wear something that would actually make her look as if she was going to a party. Helga smirked, remembering her last party. It was one of Rhonda's, and she'd gone in Nike shorts and a Shins T-shirt. Not that she didn't enjoy parties. Helga was a big fan of them, actually, and very much enjoyed the ridiculously loud and thumping music (so different from the songs you could find on her ipod) and the dancing. Dancing was Helga's favorite way of letting loose – she wasn't very good at it, but she wasn't bad either, and anybody who watched her could see that she was having a good time.

She sighed, looking at the mess of clothes strewn on her bed, clothes she had tried on and rejected, and, shaking her head, she came to a decision. She walked to her door and opened it.

"OLGAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

"Keep it down, girl! I'm trying to watch TV!" Big Bob's voice floated up the stairs, and Helga rolled her eyes. A minute later, Olga slipped into the room and closed the door.

"What is it, baby sister?" she said, looking at the mess inside the room with distaste.

"I need help picking out an outfit for a party," said Helga. Olga pursed her lips, doubtless thinking of the many times she had tried to persuade Helga to wear a dress and high heels.

"You're actually dressing up?" she said suspiciously.

"What does it look like?" said Helga sarcastically.

Quick as lightning, Olga's faced changed the one of rapture. "You can wear one of my dresses!" she said, and rushed out to fetch some for Helga to try. Helga sighed. Olga might be a pain in the ass, but sometimes, having a perfect sister _did_ come in useful.

A few blocks away, Arnold rose from rummaging inside the bottom on one of his closets. He hadn't opened it in years, and it held a bunch of old toys and clothes he'd outgrown. Standing up, he looked down at the object in his hand, a single red high heeled shoe. Smiling slightly, he whispered, "the most beautiful gift can come in the plainest box…"

Some houses away, Curly Gammelthorpe was sweating in anticipation. Tonight was the night he was finally going to put his plan into action.

**A/N: This is going to be a long author's note, I'm warning you already.**

**Sooooo… here it is!!! I don't lie when I tell people I'm not going to abandon my story!!! And though I haven't updated in like a century, you don't know how proud of myself I am! Seriously. Call it writer's block or whatever you like, but I've been having one of the most creatively infertile times of my life! It's been several months since I've done ANYTHING remotely creative at ALL! Only the other day, the dam broke, and I wrote some random poetry, and the moment I realized my muse was back from her long holiday, I got back to work on my fic. So… for your entertainment, a small poem I wrote a couple days ago. It has nothing to do with anything, but here it is:**

_**AWKWARD**_

_**He was bored and sick of trying**_

_**Her face looked open**_

_**Her eyes met his and darted quickly away**_

_**They forced his hand**_

_**He got to his feet; she**_

_**Aroused**_

_**His curiosity.**_

_**Awkward were they as they danced**_

_**Around each others' feelings; feeling**_

_**For a handhold to let them know where they stood.**_

**Ummm… let's see… I want to do a couple of shout outs, so here they are:**

**Pointy Objects, for never giving up on me… You are like, the NICEST person ever! Thank you SO much for all the encouragement, for my writing and otherwise! I promise I am going to get back to reading and reviewing everything you've written during my long and pointless absence. You are one of the biggest reasons I got up off my butt and made myself continue, because I am pretty damn good at procrastinating and have no willpower whatsoever. So, you deserve a BIG shout out, and LOTS of love!**

**Also to Hellerick Ferlibay and Acosta Perez Jose Ramiro for being consistent and encouraging and critical where it was needed! You guys are amazing and you don't know how much I appreciate it.**

**ANONS:**

**Khayleenya: I will. Promise.**

**Kia Uchitari: Thank you so much! Here's the update!**

**Passerby: Thank you so much for the great review! I'm not abandoning this story till it's done so don't worry about that. I'm glad you're hooked, ad I hope you come back and read this update!**

**Everybody who HAS an account here, I'm almost sure I've replied to your reviews. If I haven't let me know! I appreciate all the encouragement, and you guys are great! Every one of your reviews contributed in me getting my inspiration back, so thank you very, very, much, and I hope you liked this chapter! Loads of love, and leave a review, you know how much it means to me!**


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